


Verbatim

by IceMage4739



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Action, Angst, Everything's Fine, Fluff and Angst, Gang AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot, Softer Than It Looks, Swearing, Violence, but it's really not that bad, it's a gang au but tbh is it really, minho is a dancer but also a fighter, side changlix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 116,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceMage4739/pseuds/IceMage4739
Summary: Jisung breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the wall. The exhaustion of the fight was beginning to catch up to him, along with the pain. He glanced at Minho. “I had it covered,” he said casually, looking away when Minho fixed him with a criticizing look.“Is that why you’re bleeding?”When Lee Minho saves Jisung from an unfortunate encounter with a rival gang, the two become hopelessly entangled as tensions between the two gangs rise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title after blackbear's song "Verbatim"
> 
> I've been writing this for a while, I'm about 25k in right now, so I'll have a fairly regular updating schedule. Also, fair warning, this hasn't been edited, except for me reading over it for mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

Jisung had been in fights before. Honestly, they weren’t his favorite pass time, and he’d always tried to not to make a habit out of throwing fists, but never let it be said that he _couldn’t_. In all of his eighteen years, he could probably count the number of fights he’d been in one his two hands, and those were just the ones that he actually considered true fights. Punching Park Jinbum in the eighth grade, he decided, did _not_ count because, although he got the first blow, that victory was short-lived because he’d promptly been destroyed. It’s not his most honorable moment, he knows, but it’s one of those things in life that he you have to accept and move on (and never tell your friends or they will hold it over you for the rest of your mortal life–and then some).

 Jisung _had_ been in fights before–and mostly, he’d won–so, when he realized that a rather large, ugly-looking boy was following him, he wasn’t entirely concerned. The aforementioned boy probably had a year or two more than him in age, and at least four inches in height, and maybe about fifty pounds. His hair was cut short and died white, but his black roots were showing. His earrings dangled and glinted in the afternoon sun, and, upon shooting another look over his shoulder, Jisung noticed that the earring adorning his right ear seemed to a silver shark tooth.

 Jisung was at ease, cocky enough to even slow the pace of his walk and thrust his hands into his pockets. He knew the earring–or, at least, the emblem of the shark–well, as did anyone who was a Stray. For the longest time, the Strays and the Sharks had been feuding, fighting over anything from a bottle of coke (literally) to which streets they were allowed on. Behind him, he could hear this particular Shark hiss beneath his breath as Jisung’s walk turned into a slow gait, meandering the street, and the Shark was forced to hold back a bit for the sake of subtlety (which, in truth, was entirely out the window–Jisung had been aware of the guy following him for about two blocks, simply because he was a mouth-breather).

 What _did_ set Jisung on edge, however, was when the guy was joined by another one, seeming from the shadows of a building. This one was of a slighter build, shorter, and, from what Jisung could catch from the slight glance out of the corner of his eyes, he had many rings decorating his right hand. Jisung winced at the thought.  
   
 As he walked, trying, for the sake of his pride, to maintain his slower pace, movement caught his eye. A girl, short hair shoved back up into a beanie, pushed herself off the wall of the brick building he was passing, and joined the company behind him. Subtlety, it seemed, had been thrown out the window, replaced by efficiency.

 Jisung felt his hands getting sweaty. One, he could take. Two? That was a bit of a stretch, but he was fairly confident that he could’ve made it out alive at least. Three? He was in for a long afternoon.

 When a fourth and, Jisung prayed, final member joined them, his heart began to pound.  
   
 He knew this street tended to be a dangerous area–it was more or less a free-for-all zone, belonging to neither Strays nor Sharks. He also knew that it wasn’t the best idea for him especially to be wandering these streets by himself, seeing as he was rather well known for being a “right-hand man” to the leader of the Strays. Unfortunately, everyone knew Han Jisung.  
    
 Jisung allowed his feet to gain a little more speed. If he outright ran, and was able to make it to a couple streets over, he was sure to find at least one other Stray to back him up, but here, it was every man for himself. In the back of his mind, he realized he should’ve taken Changbin’s offer to accompany him earlier, but he’d turned him down, laughing it off as a quick trip to the store across town for the charger they needed for Seungmin’s shitty geriatric laptop.

 Nervously adjusting his backpack straps, Jisung was trying to decide whether he was going to take them by surprise and round on them, or drop the load on his back and run for it.

 He was just weighing the possible outcomes of the latter option when the girl he’d seen earlier appeared on his right, giving him a sickly sweet smile. “There’s an alleyway up here, on the right,” she hissed, her voice near his ear. He fought to keep his face straight, to not cringe away. “I suggest turning down it.”

 Hesitantly, Jisung followed her orders, curving off the street into the alleyway. Before he turned, his eyes searched the surrounding area for anyone who was around, watching. He caught sight of very few people, all of whom determinedly avoided his gaze. He cursed under his breath, heading into the shadows. He tried to stop at the mouth of the alleyway, to remain in the eye of the street, but the group pushed him further in.

 When they’d all stopped, Jisung took the time to glare directly into their eyes, trying not to show his fear. “What do you want?” he demanded, wasting no time.

 It was the first boy who answered, the one with the tooth earring. “You don’t get to ask questions,” he bit back, stepping forward.  
   
 The girl rolled her eyes. “His questions don’t matter,” she said, scowling. She fixed her eyes on Jisung, her expression condescending. “You stole something from us.”

 Jisung’s eyes widened. He knew most of the mischief and inner-workings of the Strays, but he had no recollection of stealing anything from the other gang (at least not recently). “Me?”

 The girl bit back a laugh, but it was dry and humorless. “You, your gang, your shit leader, hell if we know. We just want it back.”  
   
 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jisung answered, his tone haughty. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped forward, but one of the other teenagers immediately blocked his path. Jisung huffed. “Look, if you don’t tell me what it is you _think_ we have, I can’t even begin to refuse to return it, then tell you all to go to hell. Are we done?”  
   
 The first punch hit him in the jaw, and he cursed himself for not seeing it coming. Maybe he kind of deserved it. Still, he swore, then spat on the ground. His lip was bleeding from where his tooth caught it, and his head spun a little from the impact. “So,” he said, looking back at the serious faces. “That’s what we’re going to do?”

 Jisung had been in fights before, but fighting four people by himself was impossible. Every time he seemed to land a hit on one of them, it was countered by at least two fists on himself. After not even a minute, almost all of his bones ached, and his knuckles were bleeding. This would be a quick fight, and he couldn’t imagine where he saw himself when it was over.

 One of the guys got hold of his arms, and he struggled against them, managing to throw his head back and catch them in the nose. He heard a crack, and a cry of pain, and his hold loosened. Before he was able to wriggle away, the grip was replaced and tightened. He tried the same movie, but the other was ready for it, dodging and tugging his arm into a more painful position. Jisung cried out, and went still, glaring at the two people who were still in front of him.

 “Cowards,” he spat. “Four on one isn’t even a fight.”  
   
 The girl answered, that same sweet smile on her face. “We could’ve easily beaten you with only one of us.”

 Jisung raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t you?”

 Her smile dropped into glare, and she aimed a punch at his stomach. “Shut up,” she demanded. “Tell us where he is, and we’ll let you live.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, fighting away the new shot of pain to his abdomen. “He? What the–I have no idea what you’re talking about!”  
            
 She slapped him. “Stop playing dumb.”

 There’s a moment of silence, and Jisung felt fury fully take over him. He fixed the girl with the coldest glare he could manage, even as his arms ached, and he felt like he could double over any minute. Before he could speak, however, another voice sounded from the opening of the alley, dark and deep.

 “You know, four on one really is a coward’s fight. Honestly, I should expect that from the Sharks, though.”

 Jisung lifted his head more, straining to see who had spoken. The person he saw before him didn’t look like he belonged on the streets, wearing torn black clothes and a dark look. He looked too...pretty. Even though his eyes were cold and angry, they were still a warm brown color, and, if Jisung was in any other situation, he could easily imagine them smiling. Now, though, the other boy’s eyebrows were furrowed into a frown when he took in Jisung’s position.

 Jisung met his eyes with as much dignity as he could, seeming how he was currently being physically restrained. The boy simply raised an eyebrow at him, before turning his cold gaze onto the girl, who’s eyes flashed with the first amount fo fear Jisung had seen from his attackers. He allowed himself to hope. 

 “Minho,” the girl said, obviously trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. “What are you doing here?”

 Minho raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Na? Chaeyong doesn’t want you in this area,” he responded cooly, his eyes shifting to Jisung for a fraction of a second before he was back to looking at the girl, Na.

 Na huffs, and Jisung is reminded of a toddler being scolded. “And what do you know about what Chaeyong wants?” she snaps.

 Minho just shook his head. “I’m not here to argue with you, Na.”

 “Then leave.”

 Minho nodded towards Jisung. “Not until you let him go. Really, Na? Four to one? Where’s your sense of honor?”  
           
 “Probably with yours,” she said, her eyes fierce. “You may not know this but they have someone we want, stole him. If they just hand Yo–”  
   
 “Listen, Na, right?” Both Minho and Na turned to him like they’d just remembered his presence. Jisung sighed. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I assure you, the Strays would never associate with Shark scum. Can I please go home now?”

 Minho seemed to recollect himself, gesturing towards the two lackies currently restraining Jisung. “He’s right, we can’t bicker the day away. Why don’t you tell the dogs to heel, and we can fight this out two to four? At least with me here, it will be an even fight.”

 Jisung narrowed his eyes at Minho, but didn’t say anything, too busy hoping Na will actually listen to the other boy.

 Na placed her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to fight you Minho.” Her voice wavered, despite her confident stance, and Jisung realized her refusal to go hand-to-hand with Minho meant she thought she would lose. His heart began to pick up speed, daring to hope that he could get out of this relatively unscathed.

 Minho smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. As laid back as he seemed, Jisung could tell he was preparing for a fight. His shoulders had tensed, his hands kept clenching into fists, and his eyes were dark, dangerous. “Then leave,” Minho said, laughing darkly as he threw her own words back at her from earlier.

 Na held her place for another second or two, before she turned, cursing under her breath.  
   
 “Let him go,” she snapped at the two holding Jisung’s arms, and he instantly felt the relief of not being restrained. He stumbled forward awkwardly, shaking out his arms.

 Na gave Jisung a look of pure hatred. “This isn’t over, Stray.”

 With one last glare shot at Minho, the four of them departed, dispersing into the streets like they’d never been in the alleyway at all.

 Jisung breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the wall. The exhaustion of the fight was beginning to catch up to him, along with the pain. He glanced at Minho. “I had it covered,” he said casually, looking away when Minho fixed him with a criticizing look.  
   
 “Is that why you’re bleeding?” he asked.

 Jisung pouted at the other boy, who seemed surprised, looking away swiftly. Jisung, feeling a small amount of victory, let out a short laugh, then pushed himself off the wall to get closer to Minho. “Really, though. I would’ve figured something out,” he insisted. Minho didn’t look like he believed him, but he ignored it for the sake of his curiosity. “How do you know them? Are you a Shark?”

 Minho had the decency to seem offended by the question, his face scrunched up in a bitter expression. “Hell no,” he said.

 Jisung was even more confused at this. “Did you used to be?”  
   
 Minho scoffed, looking disgusted. “Never. You saw the way they just acted, you think they let anyone leave that gang? Whoever they’re looking for, I sincerely hope he’s good at hiding.”  
   
 An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Jisung’s stomach, but he pushed it aside. “What gang _do_ you belong to then?”

 Minho rolled his eyes, the expression exaggerated. “None.”

 “Then how do they know you so well?”  
   
 Minho smirked, and, for the first time, it lit up his eyes–even if it is just with confidence. His voice is cocky when he speaks. “I’m pretty well known around here.”

 Jisung sighed wistfully, staring at the now vast space of the alley. “Too bad we couldn’t fight them,” he said, pouting again. “I bet we could’ve kicked their asses together!”

 Minho just blinked at him. “You’re literally limping,” he said.

 Jisung waved him off. “Minor details. So, you fight?”

 “Something like that.”

 “I bet you’d do good in a gang, I happen to kn–”  
   
 “No,” Minho responded, before Jisung could finish speaking. The word was harsh, biting, and Jisung almost flinched. “I don’t work well with other people,” he added, his voice growing softer upon seeing the other boy’s reaction.

 Jisung shook it off, smiling at him. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m Jisung. Han Jisung. Come talk to me and I’m sure we could figure something out.” Gathering his confidence, he winked at Minho, who only blinked in return, unaffected.

 “And how am I supposed to find you again?” Minho asked, stubbornly avoiding eye contact.

 Jisung walked past him, hiding the pain in his step rather easily. When he reached the entrance of the alley, he looked over his shoulder to find Minho watching him walk away. “Already thinking about me?” he teased, grinning. “You’ll be able to find me,” he said, in response to his question. “I’m sure of it. Goodbye, Minho.”

 He almost didn’t hear him laugh a little, and the murmured, “Goodbye Jisung.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! I'm posting this chapter pretty quickly. I'm not quite sure how often I will update, but it will definitely be once a week! I hope you this!

It didn’t take long to make it back to the house that Chan, the leader of the Strays, owned. It wasn’t a terribly big, or uncomfortably small, house, with four rooms and a reasonably sized kitchen that had never been used, and, if it were to be used, would probably be burned down. The only members of the Strays that actually lived in the house were Chan, Jisung, and the most recent addition to their team, Felix, but the others stopped by often enough that Chan joked they might as well live there. Jisung thought that was a terrible idea.

 Despite the Strays being a rather well-known gang, with an average amount of people, there was a group of six of them that Jisung knew he could trust and rely on above all the others. Chan, their leader, seemed to be fearless, and Jisung had looked up to him since the day he was left with nothing, and found everything here. Changbin, the other “right-hand man” to Chan could be vicious in a fight, but looked after the younger members with so much care you would never be able to know. Seungmin, Felix, and Woojin were the newest members to the close-knit group, but they easily fit in, and, together, Jisung felt like they were unstoppable.

 Jisung entered the house confidently, hiding the pain that lingered in his body carefully. “Here’s your shit charger,” Jisung said, spotting Seungmin on the couch and tossing the item towards him. “I almost died for it.”

 Seungmin blinked up at him, taking in his face. “ _You_ look like shit.”

 Jisung laughed in spite of everything, then collapsed onto the couch. “I really hope that computer of yours is worth it, because I just had a hell of an afternoon.”

 Seungmin’s smile was blinding, and he nodded quickly, gathering the cord into his hands. “This is going to be awesome, thank you,” he said, the excitement leaking into his voice easily. After plugging in the brick he calls a computer, he sits down again, truly looking at Jisung. “Jokes aside, what did happen?”  
   
 “Sharks,” was his simple answer, the word tasting bitter. “Apparently we have someone they want back or some shit.”

 Seungmin scoffed, just as confused as Jisung was. “Why would we have anything to do with a Shark?”  
   
 “Hell if I know,” he said, shrugging. “Do you know where Chan is? This is something he’d want to know.”

 Seungmin looked up from where he was attempting to get his computer running again, then pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “I think he, Changbin, and Felix all went out an hour or two ago, but they should be back soon.”

 “Great,” he said, then groaned. “I’m going to take a nap.”

 “Don’t sleep too long,” Seungmin said, not even looking up from the technology in front of him. “And take a shower!”

 Jisung just laughed at the other boy’s scolding as he left the room.

 He took Seungmin’s advice, heading to his room. The sun outside was setting steadily, the hallways of the house cast in shadows. His room was just up the stairs, the last door on the right, and he felt all of the energy he’d been pretending to have drain from his body. When he entered his room, he stared longingly at his bed before he grabbed a clean pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt from his closet, then left his room again.

 When he reached the bathroom, he took a deep breath before looking in the mirror. He wasn’t surprised to find a large bruise taking residence underneath his left eye, and they split in his lip coloring as well. He groaned in pain when he lifted his shirt off, finding more bruises scattered on his upper body. Carefully, he poked at one on his side, then winced. “I’m going to feel this in the morning,” he mumbled to himself, then turned away.

 He showered quickly, relieved when he was able to put on the baggy clothes he’d set out and leave the bathroom, not glancing back for a second to look at his reflection again. Honestly? He was over it.

 He was ready to collapse into his bed, looking forward to it so desperately, when he heard his name being called from downstairs. It sounded like Chan.

 Jisung sighed in defeat.

 He took the stairs slowly, fighting off the exhaustion once again, and came down to meet the three other boys who had just gotten home. “Where’d you guys go?” he asked, opening the fridge as he walked into the kitchen. His eyes shifted among everything in there–expired milk, a couple apples, and an old can of whipped cream–before he gave up and pulled out a bottle of water.

 Changbin grabbed the bottle from his hand and cracked the lid before taking a long swig. Jisung was sure the look on his face was of utter betrayal, and when the water was returned to his hand, it was half gone. Changbin laughed. “We picked up a few of Felix’s things from his old apartment.” His eyes flashed to the boy he’d mentioned with a certain amount of amusement. “Mostly, it was stuffed animals.”

 “Hyung!” Felix whined, walking into the kitchen with Chan following close behind him. “There was important stuff there! Plus, don’t pretend like _you_ don’t sleep with a stuffed animal ever–”  
   
 “Yah!” Changbing yelled, then hurriedly turned to Jisung. “What happened to your face, man?”

 Jisung raised his eyebrow, then took a long sip from his water bottle. “I think Felix was informing us all of something.”

 Changbin shot the other boy a dark glare. “No one say anything. I could still crush you guys.”

 Chan laughed, but it was hollow. He pulled himself up into a sitting position on the counter, his eyes scanning Jisung’s appearance. His expression was calm, but his eyes were furious. “What happened, Jisung?” he asked, his voice serious.

 Jisung shook his head. “Sharks,” he said, echoing what he told Seungmin earlier. “I was walking down Park street and then four of them came up behind me. I ended up in an alley and then this happened.” He gestured to his face.

 Chan’s eyes darkened with worry, flitting briefly to a place behind Jisung, then back easily. “What did they want?” he asked carefully.

 Jisung shrugged. “Apparently we have someone they want. Like we would ever take prisoners _or_ deal with anybody from the Sharks.”

 Chan tensed for a brief second, then seemed to shake himself out of it, giving him a steady look. Jisung didn’t like that he couldn’t read the look on his face. “Did they give a name?”  
   
 “No,” Jisung said, shaking his head again. “I don’t think they wanted to. They were sure we’d have him, but if they’d said the name, then we would know who was missing, which, for obvious reasons, wouldn’t be good for them.”

 “It’d be easy to find the person and get information,” Changbin said, confirming what Jisung had been thinking, and looking thoughtful. Jisung just nodded.  
   
 “How did you get out of it?” Felix asked, changing the subject. The blonde boy looked nervous, shifting uncomfortably, but he made eye contact with Jisung.

 Jisung felt his cheeks heat up a little, and he ducked his head to hide the sudden blush. “I–”

 Changbin narrowed his eyes, watching his reaction, then broke out into a sharp laugh. “You were saved!” he said through his cackles.

 “Shut up!” Jisung responded, shoving at Changbin’s shoulder. “I had it handled before Minho showed up!”

 Chan perked up then, pushing himself off the counter and getting closer to Jisung. “Wait, what did you just say?”

 Jisung was confused. “I had it handled?”

 Chan waved that off. “Obviously, you didn’t, but we can talk about your chaotic tendencies later. What did you say about Minho?”

 Jisung visibly deflated, leaning backwards. “Oh, him. I don’t know, he’s just some guy? He seemed to know the Sharks, and I guess the chick–her name was Na?–really didn’t want to fight him so they just left.”

 Felix leaned forward too, eyes wide. “Minho? Like, Lee Minho?”

 Jisung laughed, like they were pulling some prank on them. “How am I supposed to know? He was just a random guy that knew the Sharks.”

 Chan shook his head, beginning to look excited. “No way. Minho is a goddamn legend underground!”

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “Please, the guy was way too soft for that shit.”

 Chan pulled back, looking disappointed. “Are you sure?”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember all of the details. On the outside, Minho _did_ seem soft, pretty black hair falling into big brown eyes. Despite the black clothing and ear piercings, Minho looked like he belonged on a magazine cover–not the streets. But there was something else. The dark look he fixed on Na, the dangerous glint to his smile as he threatened to fight, the cocky aura that surrounded him. It was terrifying, but alluring. Jisung shook his head to clear it. “No, I’m not.”

 Chan’s grin returned. “Lee Minho. He fights all the time underground, I’ve literally never heard of him losing a fight.”

 Felix nodded, now sitting on the counter next to Jisung, but he seemed troubled, quieter than usual.

 “Is this the same Minho that refuses to join a gang?” Changbin asked. He didn’t seem too impressed with the talk about Minho, and Jisung was rather relieved to find that he wasn’t the only one that wasn’t as enamored with the mysterious boy as the other two in the room.

 Chan let out a long sigh, running his hand through curly black hair. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s unheard of him to work alongside any gang. No one really knows what his deal is. Everyone who fights underground is allied with a gang, except him. On top of that, his background is kind of sketchy. Which is saying something, since we all have a sketchy background.”

 “Sketchy?” Jisung prompted.

 “He just popped up three years ago. This seventeen-year-old dancer. Crazy determined, but also really serious. I don’t remember when he stopped dancing and started fighting, but I guess there are less opportunities for dance battles underground,” Chan chuckled darkly.

 Jisung’s eyes widened in surprise. A dancer? It seemed impossible, but the more he thought about it, the more he could picture it. He hadn’t even seen the older boy fight, but he could imagine. He had a dancer’s body, it would have made him swift in a fight, and Jisung could easily see how dancing had turned to fighting–honestly, they were scarily similar. Jisung took in a deep breath. “So, what’s so special about him?”

 Chan started pacing the kitchen, the wheels obviously turning in his head. “The Sharks have wanted him on their side for a year. As far as I know, he’s refused every time. It’s unheard of for him to associate with anything to do with gangs outside of the underground.” Chan looked up, his eyes settling on Jisung. He didn’t like the look on his face. “Until today.”

 “What?” Jisung said. Everyone was looking at him. “What?” he repeated when the room remained quiet.

 Felix answered. “Why did he intervene?”

 Jisung threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t quite in the mood for unanswerable questions. “How am I supposed to know? All he said was that it wasn’t honorable for them to be fighting me four to one–which, it wasn’t.”

 “That makes sense to me,” Changbin said, inspecting the bruises on the side of his face. He poked at one, frowning when Jisung hissed in pain. “Bastards.”

 Chan nodded. “The Sharks can’t get away with attacking one of our members like that but...” he trailed off.

 “Do not say what I think you’re going to say,” Jisung said, his voice taking on a pleading tone.

 “There’s a reason he decided to step in,” Chan started. At first, he spoke slow, hesitant, but as the idea formed in his head, he became more confident. “If we can get him to become a Stray, then we might actually have something over the Sharks.”

 “They’ll just be pissed, what’s the point?”

 “The point?” Changbin intervened. “We’ll get to see the looks on their faces. That’s the point.”  
   
 “Not just that, though. There has to be a _reason_ –other than his skills–that they want him. And I want to know. I’d rather him on our side than theirs–but right now, we can’t trust which side he’ll take in anything,” Chan added, messing up his hair with his hands as he thought through the situation.

 “I don’t know, Minho seemed pretty adamant about not being a part of any gang. Said he worked better by himself. Probably some kind of lone wolf complex,” Jisung told them, remembering the conversation he’d had with the other boy. He’d been almost angry when he’d been prompted about the gangs–getting him on their side would be a difficult, if not impossible, process.

 Chan sighed, then spoke as if reading Jisung’s thoughts. “I didn’t say I thought it would be easy. Come with us underground Friday night,” Chan offered, watching Jisung’s reaction for signs of disagreement. “Just to talk to him.”

 Jisung narrowed his eyes, searching the faces of the other three. Chan seemed hopeful, already formulating other ideas and plans. Felix was stubbornly avoiding eye contact, playing with his fingers and kicking his legs against the counter. Changbin just looked curious, watching Jisung with intrigue. “Just to talk?” Jisung asked, cautious.  
   
 “Just to talk,” Chan confirmed.

 “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! Thank you :)


	3. Chapter 3

The underground was more of an event than a place. It always took place on a single street, usually closed off from the rest of the town with few houses, and often, they were abandoned. Every month, the street changed, due to the gangs trying to keep some semblance of subtlety (not that the police in town cared all that much).  
   
 The second the sun started to go down, people would melt from the shadows into the streets. A truce would be called between the gangs (outside of organized fights), and the events of the underground would go on until early morning when the sun rose again. The people who went always varied–friends who hadn’t seen each other in weeks, people who didn’t belong to a gang and were just looking for some fun.

 Jisung didn’t tend to frequent the underground. He’d done a couple rap battles, and Chan and Changbin always told him he was good, that he should do it more, but in all honesty, the underground was full of people who were looking for trouble just for the sake of it.  
   
 Like Minho, apparently.

 The other boy was surprisingly easy to find in the crowd. Chan spotted him first, the dragged Changbin, and Jisung to the puddle of people surrounding a fight. Jisung allowed himself to get pulled, still a little dubious and unsure of this whole plan. He didn’t figure that this would go entirely well, and Jisung was already a little on edge because there were Sharks all around them, scattered in the crowds of people. He kept an eye out for Na or any of the other three that jumped him.

 When they stopped at the edge of the group, Chan nudged him, nodding to the fight. “Is _that_ Minho?”  
   
 Jisung, who’s eyes had currently been fluttering around uneasily, shook off his frustration at being interrupted in his scan of the area and looked forward, focusing on the fight. He recognized Minho instantly. He was wearing a simple pair of sweats and a white t-shirt that clung to his body. His black hair was parted a little, hanging in his eyes and sticking to his forehead with sweat. The fight seemed like it was just beginning, but it looked like it wasn’t Minho’s first for the night. And, with the way it was looking, it wouldn’t be his last either.

 Jisung nodded, then looked into the crowd again. He didn’t want to keep his eyes on the fight too long. His stomach turned.

 Changbin appeared at his side, carelessly throwing an arm around his shoulders as he grinned at the fight in front of them. “That’s our guy?” he asked, and Jisung wanted to roll his eyes.

 “Can you keep your voice down?” he hissed.

 Changbin laughed. “You’re so new to this, Sungie,” he said, his voice teasing. Changbin only used the nickname when he wanted to mess with Jisung. He ruffled his hair playfully, and the latter pushed his hand away, unamused. Changbin sighed. “No one gives a shit here.”

 Jisung knew that. Most places he went, no one gave a shit. But something about this place, this night, made him uncomfortable. He suddenly wished Felix had come, and there was someone else that would understand the feeling. Since he’d joined the gang, Felix hadn’t gone to the underground, always insisting that he wasn’t a fan of the place. Jisung knew Felix used to go, because he was one of the most street smart people he knew–Felix knew a little bit about everybody, and barely anyone knew anything about him. But Felix didn’t spill secrets very readily.

 “Aren’t you going to watch?” Chan asked, leaning down a bit to make sure Jisung heard him over the noise of the crowd. His face turned teasing, and he smirked. “Or place a bet?”

 Jisung’s eyes flickered to the two people in the ring of people. Minho was still stretching. The guy he was fighting was watching the latter with an almost predatory glint in his eyes. He was bigger than Minho–by a lot. Jisung shifted nervously. “I don’t like betting, hyung,” he said nonchalantly.

 Chan shrugged, giving him his space again. “Fair enough. But you’re going to want to watch.”

 Jisung swallowed his pride and finally turned his full attention to the fight. There was an electricity that slithered through the crowd. Anticipation. Adrenaline. Minho was entirely confidence; his eyes never left his opponent. From the corner of Jisung’s eye, he could see Chan placing a bet on Minho. Changbin was tense, but Jisung could see the excitement written in his shoulders, how he leaned ever so slightly forward to watch.

 The big guy took the first swing, out of nowhere. Minho dodged easily, hopping to the side, and then the fight was in full motion.

 Minho’s playful aura dropped, and Jisung saw his eyes darken, but he was still being cocky. He darted towards the other boy, quickly, and managed to land a hit. He moved so fast, if Jisung hadn’t been giving him all of his focus, he wouldn’t have seen it. He parried backwards, and, when his opponent went in to hit him again, he dodged, and caught him in the side easily.

 Watching him fight, Jisung could easily see how Minho used to be a dancer. The way he moved–it was almost melodic. There was a purpose to each step, a beat. He was fast, faster than he’d ever seen someone fight. He held himself confidently, as if there was nothing else he would rather be doing. He owned the street.

 Around him, more and more bets were being placed on Minho, and Jisung felt a weight shift off his shoulders. Minho was going to win.

 Jisung’s eyes never left Minho, and he was struck with the sudden longing to see him actually dancing. He was in a trance, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to break.

 Minho sidestepped a lunge from his opponent, and his eyes, confident, dark, shifted past the other guy, and into the crowd. He passed over the faces in the crowd for the slightest of seconds, and Jisung held his breath. They made eye contact.

 Minho’s confident smirk dropped, and he looked confused. Jisung could feel his heart beating in his chest, like it was trying to escape. He willed it to slow down–willed himself to look away from Minho, but he couldn’t.

 And then Minho got hit.

 Jisung’s heart stopped as the other boy collapsed. His opponent was big, and the amount of force behind the punch was enough to knock out anyone. “Fuck!” Jisung said, and he felt himself jerk forward, as if he could run to Minho’s side. “Minho, fuck!” Jisung hissed, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t tell who it was, too focused on the anxiety building up in him.

 “It’s okay, Jisung. Just, give him a second,” Chan whispered.

 Jisung didn’t want to. He hated this. But he watched as Minho stumbled back to his feet, pulling his white shirt up to wipe his mouth. The blood stained the white shirt, and Jisung couldn’t focus.

 Minho shook his head, like he was desperately trying to clear it, and with one lingering look back towards Jisung, he settled his gaze on his opponent again. The latter of which seemed to have become rather cocky after knocking Minho down. His light bounce and careless energy was gone, and he carried himself with a heavier purpose now. Jisung quickly realized he wasn’t playing around anymore.

 The rest of the fight was a blur of fists. Every time Minho’s opponent would swing, Minho blocked it like it was easiest thing in the world, returning the hit with vigor. It was over after two more minutes, the other guy on the ground. The crowd was roaring, but Minho ignored the shouts. He wiped the sweat off his face, then walked into the throng of people, directly towards Jisung.

 Jisung blinked at Minho, frozen in place as he got closer. He seemed mad, his lips set in a thin line, and his eyebrows drawn tight. Next to him, Chan was giving Jisung a critical look, trying to discern the situation.

 Minho grabbed Jisung’s arm, tugging him behind him as he continued to walk. He barely spared Chan or Changbin a second glance. “Come with me,” he said, and his voice didn’t leave any room for argument.

 After shooting one last helpless look towards his friends, Jisung stumbled along with Minho, who had a solid grip on him. They waded through the sea of people, dodging storytellers, rappers, and other fights. “Where are we going?” Jisung asked, jerking his arm back and jogging to keep pace with Minho.

 Minho didn’t answer until they were outside of all the crowd, entirely out of earshot. They were tucked into a little alleyway, overgrown with weeds poking through the gravel. Jisung was still taking in his surroundings when Minho rounded on him. “What the hell are you doing here, Jisung?” he growled.

 Jisung stared back at him in shock. Minho was definitely mad, but Jisung couldn’t pinpoint why. “W-what?” he stuttered. He crossed his arms in front of him, trying to make himself feel bigger as the other boy towered over him.

 “What are you doing here?” he repeated, stepping closer to him.

 Frustration welled up inside Jisung, and he threw his hands up in the air. “What am I doing here? It’s the underground, Minho. I’m a Stray. Why the hell wouldn’t I be here?” he countered, glaring at the other boy. Any trace of the trance he’d been put under watching the boy fight had dissipated, replaced by irritation.

 “Do you know how many Sharks there are here tonight?” Minho hissed.

 Jisung bristled, pissed. “That’s what you’re talking about?” he exclaimed disbelievingly. “I can handle myself, Minho, I’m not some kid. I’m not helpless.”

 Minho frowned, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, looking at the other boy. Some of the anger had left his body, but he was still tense. “Fuck, Jisung. You should go home. I’m serious.”

 “Fuck you, Minho,” Jisung spat. “It’s not like I came alone. And even if I did, what does it matter to you?”

 Minho’s jaw clenched, and he turned away.

 Jisung noticed there was still blood on his bottom lip, and he found himself staring at it. The color was distracting, and Jisung wondered if it hurt. “Nice fight,” he said instead, reminding himself to focus on Minho’s eyes. Which, in all honesty, didn’t help because, even though he wasn’t facing Jisung, they were dark and calculating, taking in everything around them. “Shouldn’t you be collecting your earnings?” he added, his voice biting.

 Minho rolled his eyes, finally looking at Jisung again. He didn’t quite meet his eyes, his gaze instead lingering on the bruise that was still prominent on his cheek. He was distracted when he spoke again, like he wasn’t in control of what he was saying. “I got hit.”

 Jisung blinked, allowing himself to look at Minho’s lip. “You’re still bleeding,” he said bluntly.  
       
 “And you still have a bruise,” Minho countered. He sighed. “Why are you really here, Jisung?”

 Jisung sighed, giving up the indignation he’d previously felt. The anger left his body like a breeze, and he inspected Minho’s lip one last time. He pulled the sleeve of his black hoodie over his hand and, standing on his tip toes, he leaned forward, gently dabbing at Minho’s lip. There wasn’t too much blood, and he was careful to not bother the wound too much. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Maybe,” he said, hesitantly, but careful to keep a teasing lilt to his voice, “I’m here to keep an eye out for you.”

 Minho lightly grabbed Jisung’s wrist, forcing him to stop what he was doing. For a second, as they made eye contact, Jisung was afraid that he’d gone too far–it wasn’t too late for the other boy to shove him away, forget they ever met–before Minho let out a light laugh.

 Jisung’s breath caught in his throat. He liked the sound of the other boy’s laugh–he wanted to hear it again, wanted to be a cause for it. He stared at Minho in awe.

 Unaware of how he affecting Jisung, Minho let go of his wrist. Jisung hovered with his hand in the air for an awkward second before he drew back, too afraid to touch him again. “What’s so funny?” he asked, pouting. He wanted to change the subject, forget about the way he’d wiped his lip, too close, too friendly. If it weren’t for his sleeve, he could’ve touched the other boy’s bottom lip.It looked soft, plump. Jisung was almost enamored with it.

 Minho shook his head. “The fact that you think you can keep an eye out for me.”

 “No fair,” Jisung huffed, glaring.

 “No fair? Do you not remember how I first met you?” Minho prompted, smirking. There was a look in his eye that Jisung couldn’t quite place, but the teasing felt odd to Jisung, like they were closer than people who had met a couple of days ago.

 “That doesn’t count,” Jisung whined. “I was doing fine.”

 Minho smiled a little. “I’m sure you were.”

 “Hey! Don’t patronize me,” he repeated indignantly.

 Minho’s smile dropped, suddenly serious. He shook his head. “I’m not, Jisung-ah,” he said quietly. He reached out, brushing his fingers along the bruise on Jisung’s left cheek.

 “Hyung?” Jisung asked, ducking his head so that Minho was forced to meet his eyes. He stepped closer.

 “Yes?” Minho prompted, his voice quiet. His thumb was still resting gently on the bruise, and they were too close–intimately close.

 Jisung didn’t want to break the moment to talk. He hated that his heart was pounding, that he’d never wanted to close a distance more in his life. He had a bad feeling about this moment. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew it was dangerous. He opened his mouth to say what he needed to, but closed it again when he felt Minho step closer.

 “What is it, Jisung?” the older breathed.

 Jisung took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Minho’s eyes. They were beautiful, shining, deep brown. Framed by long lashes. “You’ve been here for three years, right?” he started. Minho tensed, but he remained where he was. Jisung wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “Why are you here? Doing what you do? And why not join a gang?”

 Minho’s eyes darkened, and he stepped back quickly, like he’d been burned. “What?” he hissed.

 Jisung’s eyes widened, and he scrambled to fix his mistake. “It’s just–you’ve been a part of the underground and most people...” he trailed off. He didn’t know if Minho was angry or just taken aback, but the moment was definitely gone, and he mentally kicked himself.

 “Jisung, I already told you–”

 Jisung nodded, but he wasn’t done. “I know, I get that you have this whole lone wolf aesthetic going on, but it doesn’t have to be like that. Or you could have it both ways–join the Strays, but you can keep being the lone wolf,” Jisung said, knowing that he sounded hopeful.

 Minho laughed, but it was bitter. “I don’t have much luck with others. Being alone is much safer.”

 “For who?” Jisung asked, a challenge in his eyes.

 “I’m sorry, Jisung, I can’t. I have to go.”

 “Wait, hyung,” Jisung called, and Minho stopped. He turned his head, but didn’t look at Jisung.  
   
 Jisung walked forward, sliding his hands into the front pocket of Minho’s sweats and pulled out the other boy’s cell phone. Minho kept his face straight, watching his every movement. “Unlock it,” Jisung said, holding it out for the other. It wasn’t an order, but something in his voice must have made Minho trust him, because he followed the instructions, unblinking, with barely a hint of his previous anger, and something else that Jisung couldn’t place when he glanced up into his eyes.  
   
 Jisung, ignoring his nerves, punched his number in, saving it under the name “Jisungie” for fun. His hands were shaking when the phone passed back to Minho from his hands. Minho didn’t even look at what he’d done, just slid the phone back into his pocket. “If you need something, anything,” Jisung told him, knowing that Minho would understand.

 Minho was quiet for a long moment, trying to find something in Jisung. Finally, he gave Jisung a curt nod, then left.

 Jisung released a long breath, leaning back against the wall of the alley. As much as he wanted him to, Minho didn’t trust him, and there was no way that he was going to ally himself with any gang any time soon. Jisung thought of how Minho fought, and thought he could understand the attraction of not having ties to any specific people. No need for loyalty. Minho could do whatever he wanted.

 But on the other hand, there was nothing Jisung loved more than the people he surrounded himself with. They made him feel safe, taken care of, and Jisung knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them.

 After a couple more minutes, he left the alcove as well, tangling himself into the crowd to find Chan and Changbin again.

 When he found them, Changbin was a little drunk, and Chan seemed like he was holding back his anger. When Jisung shot him a questioning look, he just shook his head.

 Changbin threw his arm over Jisung’s shoulder. “How did it go, Sungie?” he said, punctuating the question with a laugh.

 Jisung looked at Chan as he answered. “Exactly how I thought it would. Come on, let’s go home, hyung,” he said, taking Changbin’s weight and walking away.  
         
 As they left the underground, Jisung could’ve sworn he felt eyes on him, and he shivered.

—

 Changbin was rather difficult to wrestle into bed. Despite not living at the house, there was a guest bedroom that Changbin stayed in frequently, and even had a drawer of his clothes, which Jisung dug through, tossing a clean pair of sweats onto the bed. As Changbin changed, he babbled about how he had to go downstairs and write something at that very moment, stumbling as he hopped on one foot to tug his pants on. He was adamant that he leave his bedroom, and Jisung was already frustrated from the night that he’d had, and wasn’t equipped with babysitting his drunk hyung.  
   
 In the end, Jisung was able to get the older boy laying down at least, with the promise that he could write and drink to his heart’s content the next day. Changbin seemed to relax at this, and settled back. Not surprisingly, he was asleep in seconds, and Jisung was left with an immense amount of relief.

 He left the room quietly, shutting the door as carefully as he could manage–not that anything short of a parade of elephants could wake Changbin at the moment–and turned around to go to his room.

 There was nothing he wanted more than to go to sleep and forget the night’s events. Chan was still out, probably uncovering as much information as possible about Minho–and, Jisung hoped, the missing member of the Sharks. Jisung worried about the leader of their gang often. Chan hadn’t really had it easy, growing up on the streets. He’d been apart of other gangs, and often talked fondly of those he’d met there, but Jisung knew little about why he’d been left to his own devices–why he’d pulled the misfit group of the Strays together. Chan still took on most of the responsibility in the group, despite their numbers growing vastly from their original three members they scrambled together years ago. Chan could sometimes be out all night, coming home late in the morning with only vague answers. Jisung knew he felt the need to protect all of his members, and if that meant taking on the hard work, sometimes doing the things that would weigh on their consciences the most, Chan strived to do it.

 Jisung wished there was more he could do, but he always felt helpless. There were many things he still didn’t know, dark things. Deeper than the underground, more than missing members or gang feuds. He was endless grateful to Chan for all that he did, but was frustrated simultaneously. They were a family, he didn’t have to do everything by himself.

 Jisung settled back into bed, staring at the ceiling. There was also Minho. He didn’t know anything about the boy, yet he was helplessly drawn to him. Jisung hated it, because it felt like a weakness, and there was no room for that in any of their lives. Jisung couldn’t help but wonder about the next time he would see the boy, if he would ever utilize the number. The hopes were baseless and useless, empty thoughts that he abandoned immediately–Minho was immovable, it seemed.

 Minho was a mystery, one that Jisung was desperate to crack. But it was more than that. He wanted to hear him laugh again, maybe see what he looked like when his whole face lit up in a grin (as opposed to the smirk that he’d seen a couple of times now, which he liked for different reasons). He had an odd craving to see him dance–for real, and not around an opponent. All of these thoughts were dangerous, and he was desperate to rid himself of them.

 There was a knock on his door, quiet and hesitant, and Jisung shot out of his bed, glad for the distraction. When he opened his door, he found Felix there, looking a little nervous. “Hi, Jisung,” he said, giving him a shy smile.

 Jisung grinned, tugging the boy into his room happily, then closing the door. “Felix!” he exclaimed. He had the need to ensure the other boy was comfortable around him, at all moments. Felix was still new, and, even though he lived with them, Jisung could sense his tension, the struggle he felt to fit in. “What can I do for you?” Jisung asked, sitting on his bed and patting the empty space next to him.

 Felix sat down, a deer in headlights. “I was curious,” Felix started, his eyes darting around the room like he would run any second. “How did tonight go? At the underground?”

 Jisung deflated. Of course he’d come for information. He tried not to let his obvious disappointment show, straightening up and giving him a steady look. “Honestly? It didn’t go anywhere. I talked to Minho a little,” Jisung hesitated, not sure exactly how much of their conversation he wanted to disclose to the other boy. “It was less than promising,” he said, deciding that being vague was probably his best option, despite how much he wanted to tell someone about his confusion. “I brought Changbin home, and Chan stayed behind, but I don’t think he’ll try to approach Minho. As it is, he barely spoke to me.”  
   
 Felix nodded slowly. “I guess we all should’ve seen that coming.”

 “I gave him my number,” Jisung said slowly, trying to gauge Felix’s reaction.

 “Are you sure that was a good idea? That could easily be used against you.”

 Jisung shook his head. “If it was a bad idea, it’s too late to change it. It’s weird, but I trust him.”

 “He did save your life, I guess,” Felix laughed, and Jisung was happy to see him loosen up. For a second, they were both quiet, until Felix opened his mouth, then shut it again, seeming unsure with himself.     

 “What is it, Felix?” Jisung prompted softly, giving him his full attention.  
   
 “I just–did you talk to any Sharks?” Felix chose his words carefully, but also stuttered over them as if they were coming out of his mouth without his permission. He was nervously fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt.

 Jisung thought back to the feeling of being watched as he left, the mild itch of fear that followed him throughout the night until he got home. “I didn’t. I think Chan stayed behind to see what he could figure out. For the most part, we avoided contact with them.”  
   
 “Maybe they’re letting the missing member go?” Felix suggested, finally looking up from his fiddling hands to meet Jisung’s eyes.

 Jisung laughed, but it was empty. “Yeah, right. The Sharks are like a dog with a bone. I’ve never seen them let a member go; they’re paranoid.”

 Felix’s face fell, and he frowned. “I guess that’s true.”

 Jisung studied Felix. He knew that asking people about their pasts when they lead their kind of lives was always hit or miss. Some people, like Changbin or Seungmin, were open about it, nothing to hide. Other people were harder to read, had skeletons in their closets that had been buried for so long they might not even remember them all. Jisung swallowed his questions, no matter how much he wanted to know, to be able to take some of the weight and ensure he felt comfortable, felt that he had a place among them.

 Instead, he sighed, leaning back. “It’s late,” he said.

 Felix hummed his agreement, shooting him one last look before standing up. “You’re right, you should get some sleep. I bet it’s been a long night,” he said. He smiled at Jisung before walking to the door.  
   
 “Hey, Felix?” Jisung called after him, making the other boy stop. “You know if you ever need to talk to anyone, we’re all here for you, yeah? I’m here, too. Please, just know that, okay?”

 Felix’s eyes widened, but his lips drew into a smile and his eyes brightened. “I know. Thank you, it really means a lot. You–you have no idea.”

 Jisung simply nodded, smiling long after the freckled boy had disappeared down the hallway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! I have a long weekend, so I'm excited to write...  
> Anyways, while we all recover from that Hyunjin dance stage (wow), tell me what you think of this chapter! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I'm trying to figure out an update schedule, but honestly, I'm just a chaotic mess :')  
> I have the next 6(ish) chapters written, and I'm trying to space it out so that I'll have time to write and keep a good update schedule on top of it, so bear with me :)  
> Not going to lie, this is unedited (it's all been unedited so far I'm sorry), sO if it feels hurried or messy I'm really sorry!!

Jisung didn’t sleep well that night. He tossed and turned, dreaming of nameless faces, cloaked in shadows. A boy, sneaking away from the Sharks in the middle of the night, and never looking back despite the ways his legs shook. In his dreams, he saw his face, but every time he awoke it slipped away, and he doubted he ever had a clear visual in the first place. It was more of a feeling, like it was someone he should’ve known, from his past.

 When he woke up in the morning, it was six, and the sun was just barely rising. He laid in bed for another half hour before he gave up on sleeping, and decided to abandon his bed in favor of food. Careful not to wake any of the sleeping members, he stepped down the stairs lightly, avoiding the third step that he knew creaked.

 The house was flooded with orange light, and Jisung found comfort in the warm glow. He wasn’t often a morning person, but there’s a calmness that comes with being awake with the sun. After pouring himself a bowl of cereal, he sat down at the table. For the longest time, he didn’t even take a bite, staring at it like it could give him answers.  
   
 It was soggy before he even got halfway through it, and he dumped the rest of it down the sink, willing to deal with Chan scolding him for the waste of food in the near future.

 Despite his stance on the Sharks, he found himself thinking about the runaway member. If the Sharks were trying to find them, they were in definite danger–especially if they were willing to go as far as confront Jisung. He wondered if there was something special about the person, if there was something they knew that the Sharks didn’t want to get out, or if this was ordinary procedure for someone who tried to leave the Sharks.

 Most of all, he wondered why they wanted to leave. And, secretly, he hoped they were safe wherever they were. He almost wished they were with the Strays, that was probably their best hope with the Sharks on their trail like bloodhounds.

 He was about to go back into his room and get dressed for the day when there was a knock at the door, loud and urgent. He blinked, checking the time. It was barely past seven, and almost no one who came to the house would be up this early. Briefly, he played with the idea that it was Chan, but he wouldn’t knock unless something serious had happened.

 Carefully, he approached the door, peering through the peephole at the figure outside. His shoulders slumped in relief when he realized it was just Woojin, and he opened the door, ready to welcome his friend in.

 Woojin didn’t wait for the door to be all the way open before he was pushing his way past Jisung. He walked with a sense of certainty, and Jisung could tell by the set in his jaw that he was angry. Jisung sighed. It was too early for this.

 “Hey, Woojin,” he said, following him back into the kitchen and sitting at the table while Woojin looked around.  
   
 Woojin’s eyes settled on Jisung like he’d just noticed his presence. He looked distracted, his eyes darting back and forth around the kitchen. “Where’s Chan?” he demanded.

 Taken aback, Jisung raised his eyebrow. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you today, Woojin? It’s awfully early, but the sun is up–”  
   
 “Jisung,” Woojin cut him off with a stern voice. “I need to speak with Chan.”

 All the humor left Jisung, and he sat back in his chair seriously. He took in Woojin’s rumpled appearance. His neck glistened with sweat, and he paced the kitchen like anything could appear out of nowhere, like he was looking for something. “Chan is still out,” he said slowly, watching Woojin’s reaction. “We went to the underground last night, he stayed as usual, probably picking up what he can in terms of information, or recruitments.”

 Woojin’s expression darkened. “Well he’s done a hell of a job, hasn’t he?” he growled.

 Jisung narrowed his eyes. “What?”

 Woojin shook his head. “Nothing. When will Chan be back?”

 Jisung pretended to examine the table, trying to act nonchalant. “Is this about the missing Shark member?” he asked casually.

 Woojin whipped his head around, glaring at Jisung. “How do you know about that?”

 Jisung laughed bitterly, wildly gesturing to his cheek. “How do you think I got this?” he asked. “They’re desperate to find the member, and they think we have them.”

 “That’s why I need to talk to Chan,” Woojin said, finally taking a seat across from him at the table. “I have...some things to go over with him.”

 “What is it?” Jisung prompted, leaning forward with interest.  
   
 Woojin hesitated, before shaking his head. “I have to talk to Chan first,” he said, and there was a note of finality to his voice that Jisung decided to honor.

 Disappointed, he leaned back in his chair. “So how’s it been, hyung? You don’t come by very often. Even Seungmin has noticed your absence, and he usually doesn’t notice everything over his laptop.”

 Woojin smiled, finally relaxing as he looked over at Jisung. “I’m sorry, Jisung-ah. I’ve been kind of busy, on the other side of town. There’s a big drug problem over there, lots of younger teenagers with daddy issues.” Jisung laughed at Woojin’s crude word choice as he continued. “So Chan sent me to find people to ally with the Strays.”  
   
 “Druggies?” Jisung said, uncertain.  
   
 “Not quite. At this point, it’s a game of numbers. They can be a Stray without having direct contact with the Strays, right? It’s more to get the word out about us, we’re trying to combat the growth of the Sharks. The more people who identify with the Strays, the less that will  join the Sharks. But they don’t really know anything.”

 “Isn’t that kind of shady? Shouldn’t we help these kids get off drugs or something?” Jisung asked, raising an eyebrow.  
   
 Woojin shrugged. “It’s their life. Drugs are bad, yeah, but are they going to listen to us? If they really want to be a part of the gang, then they’ll seek us out, but for now our priority is to be one step ahead of the Sharks.”

 “But aren’t the Sharks sellers? Wouldn’t those kids know them anyways, or want to ally with them?”

 Woojin grinned. “That’s the best part. The Sharks sell over there, yes, but many of them lack integrity in the job, sometimes collecting money for smaller amounts of the drug, or they’re late. If they were to recruit over there, they would’ve done it already. Chan thinks they’re going to try closer to the city.”

 Jisung glanced at him dubiously. “So what? We get the druggies they don’t want, and they get the sober city-dwellers?”

 “No one ever said anything about them being sober. And I don’t think that they’ll find much in the way of gang members over there.”

 “If you guys think that’s what’s best, I trust you,” Jisung said.

 The door opened just as Woojin was about to say something, and Woojin shot up, turning towards the noise. When he saw who it was he stiffened, the previous anger that he’d just worked off returning. “Chan,” he said, looking at the man.

 Chan gave him a calm look, entering the kitchen. “Good morning, Woojin, Jisungie,” he replied, going directly to the fridge for a bottle of water. “Woojin, long time no see.”

 “I’ve been busy. But I heard something interesting lately, and I really think we should talk.” Woojin glanced at Jisung apologetically. “Alone.”

 Chan met Woojin’s eyes confidently as he took a long sip from the bottle, then nodded. “Of course. We can, uh–”  
   
 Jisung sighed, then stood up. “I’ll head upstairs. Try to keep it down, Changbin is going to have a hell of a headache when he wakes up.”

 Despite his better judgement, Jisung stalled on the stairs, listening. Woojin was whispering, but he could tell from the tone that he was still upset. He only caught bits and pieces of what he was saying– _“How could you not tell us, Chan? It’s putting us all in danger! I can’t believe...”_ –and then his voice would lower to a whisper again.

 It was quiet for a long time before Chan spoke again. “I’m sorry, Woojin. It’s not just you. I’m just–I’m just trying to figure things out, keep everyone safe.”

 “You’re doing a great job of it, too,” Woojin spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Have you seen Jisung’s face?”

 Jisung flinched, reaching up to touch his cheek.

 “I know,” Chan sounded sad. “That was the last thing I ever wanted. But if we could just–”

 Woojin huffed, loudly. “No more ‘buts’, Chan. This is getting out of hand. You need to figure this situation out before someone gets seriously hurt.”  
   
 “I know. I think that if we can hold enough over the Sharks–get enough people on our side–we might stand a chance against them.”

 “Is that what’s up with the new obsession over Lee Minho?” Woojin said suddenly, his voice challenging.

 “How did you even know about that?” Chan countered.

 Jisung heard Woojin sigh, then the scraping sound of a chair being pulled out in the kitchen. The silence was drawn out before Woojin spoke again. “I hear things, Chan. It’s not that hard to figure out what you want to on the streets; I think you’ve been locked up here for too long. Just–try to keep more of us in the loop, yeah?”

 “I understand. I’m sorry, thank you, Woojin,” Chan said.

 “Now that that’s out of the way, was it this about Lee Minho?” Woojin asked.  
   
 Jisung tensed up at the name, his fists clenching in his lap. He unconsciously leaned forward, both eager and nervous to hear what Chan would tell him, if it would be the truth or some version of it.

 Jisung heard Chan sigh. “Honestly? I think there’s a reason that the Sharks are so desperate to get him on their side. Something that goes past the fact that he’s a good fighter.”

 Woojin laughed, and there was the sound of the chair being pulled out once again, followed by footsteps leading deeper into the kitchen. “And you think you’ll be able to get him to join the Strays? Chan, he’s been here for years, why would he make an alliance to a gang now?”

 Chan was silent for a long moment, and Jisung didn’t like the way his heart sped up, dreading his answer. “I don’t know what his deal is,” Chan said, his voice hesitant as if he was picking his words carefully. “All I know is that he has a soft spot for Jisung.”

 Jisung’s breath caught in his throat at the same time that something dropped in the kitchen, and the following minute was drawn out, long and awkward.

 Jisung sat in shook, trying to take in Chan’s words. There was no way they held any truth. Minho had seemed as if he was almost bothered by his presence at the underground the previous night, desperate for him to leave. Minho was ambiguous towards him at best, and Jisung wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the fighter either. He was endlessly frustrating, but Jisung was oddly drawn to him, wanted to know his thoughts, his story.

 “Jisung?” was all Woojin said, and Jisung was barely able to hear his own name come from his lips, it was so quiet.

 “You should’ve seen him last night,” Chan said, a note of resignation in his voice. “He saw Jisung in the crowd and went directly towards him after the fight. I’ve never seen him show that much interest in anybody–or at least not anybody that has to do with the gangs. He didn’t even collect his money after Jisung left. I don’t know where he went.”

 This was news to Jisung. He figured the older boy had gone to collect his earnings and taken on a couple of other fights to make more. It was odd to him that Minho would disappear so early on in the night–the majority of the people who went to the underground were there until the early morning.

 “Jisung shouldn’t have anything to do with Lee Minho. He’s dangerous and I don’t like it,” Woojin said, his voice stern.

 A bought of frustration welled in Jisung, and he had to stop himself from revealing his position to argue. Why did everyone to seem to think he needed some kind of protection? If Chan needed him to coax Minho to their side, he could do it. He could handle any danger that came from the mission–he’s been a member of the Strays longer than anyone other than Changbin, he knew his way around the streets, knew how to deal with the harsh realities of their lives.  
   
 “I know,” Chan said. “I don’t like it either, believe me. And don’t think Changbin hasn’t given me the same argument. Or Felix, for that matter.”

 Jisung was both surprised and annoyed to hear of the other members’ concern. He didn’t think Felix would be too worried about him, the boy was still new to their circle, and they weren’t close just yet. Jisung was oddly touched at the care, but still felt a flicker of anger, especially in the case of Changbin. They’d basically grown up together, if there was anyone who knew him front to back, it was Changbin. He wished his members had more faith in him and his abilities to protect himself.

 Woojin groaned, breaking Jisung from his thoughts. “You need to find out just how deep this supposed soft spot for Jisung is. I don’t care how cute Minho thinks he is–there is almost nothing that could convince me Sungie would be safe around him.”

 “It’s not even that. Minho has a lot of enemies. A lot of people who want to be his ally. Who are willing to do anything to get there.”

 There was another long silence before Woojin muttered, “Like us?” and the conversation was over just like that, leaving Jisung sitting on the stairs with too much to think about.

 With a sigh, he stood, grabbed his coat, and left the house, oblivious to the stares that followed him, watching the door slam shut with dark looks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me through this! I'm excited for where this is going (I think I've said that before but anyways!) and please tell me what you think!!!  
> Also I'm not the best at making them hardass gang members, and I don't really like drugs so I'm trying to work out what other gang activities they can do so bear with me if the gang life isn't necessarily believable :')  
> Thank you for all of your comments they honesly make my day (not even kidding I smiled for a solid hour this morning :')  
> P.S. I love reading all of your theories


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to update today but I was excited then I got a really great comment so here it is :)   
> (Seriously, thank you for all your comments, they make my entire day, month, year, life)

Jisung found himself walking to the convenience store further in the city. It was a good half an hour walk, but the store had his favorite ramen, which he couldn’t find anywhere else for the same price. He figured that there were better things he could do with his time than buy food, but he was still bitter at the conversation he’d overheard, and if he wanted to waste his time and money on noodles, he believed he was entirely in the right.  
   
 The bell jingled when he walked in, though the middle aged man that was running the counter didn’t look up from his phone, just simply grunted something that sounded like a greeting.

 The store was empty except for another teenager, probably only younger than him by a year or so, judging by his height, but with a quick glimpse at his face, Jisung was surprised to see how childlike the other boy looked. When Jisung made eye contact with him, the latter’s eyes widened, and he looked away quickly, nervous. Jisung frowned, but shook it off. He didn’t think he looked that intimidating, but the teenager, though not much younger than Jisung himself, probably, had an innocent and nervous appearance.

 Jisung chose his ramen quickly, and, after a glimpse around to secure his dignity, he grabbed three banana milks as well. He paid easily, despite the mild frustration that the worker at the register barely glanced up from his phone, grabbing his change blindly.

 Jisung walked slowly, listening to the sound of the shop door shutting behind him as he dug through his bag to grab one of the milks to open it. Just as he was about to take a drink, though, he heard a pained yell from behind him, and he whipped around to see the kid from the shop earlier being shoved by a couple of other boys.

 Jisung sighed, looking at the bunch of teenagers. Honestly, they were too old to act like that. He stood still, waiting to see if the boy from the store would fight back, but the boy just dipped his head towards the ground. From where he was standing, Jisung could see his knees shake. Inside the store, the man was still on his phone, either oblivious or uncaring towards what was happening outside his store.

 He waited for another minute, silently willing the young boy to say or do anything. When the boy received a fist to the face by one of the other teens, Jisung groaned, gave his milk one last longing glance before he set his groceries down on the sidewalk and approached the group. “What’s going on here?” he asked when he was within reach, hanging back a little bit as he gave each of the three boys a once over. The two that had hit the other boy looked annoyed by his presence, but uncomfortable nevertheless. The boy from the convenience store looked scared, even more so by the sudden third party (Jisung didn’t blame him, he knew the feeling well). His lip was bleeding, and with a wince, Jisung realized it was because the boy’s braces had dug into it when he’d been hit.

 One of the taller boys spoke up first, glaring at Jisung. “Fuck off,” he said, sizing up Jisung.

 Jisung knew he was short, with chubbier cheeks and kind of on the skinnier side. He wasn’t the most intimidating in terms of looks, but he was wearing all black and he knew the right glare to give the younger teens to make them squirm. “What did he do to you?” he asked, nodding his head towards the boy, who froze, looking like he might pass out from fear.

 The other boy spoke up this time, backing up his friend. “He’s a little shit, that’s what he is,” he said. Jisung noticed the kid was missing a tooth.

 “Right. So you’re, what? Stealing his lunch money? Seriously, how old are you guys?” Jisung said, patronizing.

 They at least had the decency to flush in shame at his comment, but their faces hardened with anger. Jisung only sighed, shifting so that his hands were in the pocket of his black hoodie. “You guys should be studying, honestly. Get over it. You can leave now.”

 The two boys laughed at him, and Jisung’s gaze darkened. His body tensed, and in his pockets, his fists clenched. “Was something funny?” he prompted.

 They went quiet quickly, backing up a little. They didn’t lose their pride though, because they said, “Nothing, you’re just trying to intimidate us but you’re half _his_ size,” one of them said, gesturing towards the kid from the store.

 Jisung’s jaw clenched. “That doesn’t mean shit. I’m not fond of beating up bratty teenagers, but if you guys don’t leave and let him,” he nodded towards the cowering boy, “go, then I will make an exception.”  
   
 One of the boys looked ready to fight, his eyebrows crinkling in anger, but the other one tugged at his arm, mumbling something along the lines of “It’s not worth it, come on,” before they shot one last dirty glare, but left the two alone outside of the convenience store.

 “Thank you,” the boy from the convenience store said, so softly it was almost lost to Jisung.

 Jisung was surprised at the gratitude. He tried to settle the boy’s nerves with a soft smile. “I’m Han Jisung,” he told him, offering his hand to help him up from the ground. “You?”

 “Yang Jeongin,” the boy mumbled in response. He wiped his hands on his jeans, wincing when he realized that he scraped them on the ground when he fell. “Those boys are assholes.”

 Jisung laughed. “You have to stand up to bullies like that, Jeongin-ah, or they won’t ever stop.”

 Jeongin shook his head. “I know, but I don’t have the confidence you do. If I fought them, they’d win.”

 “Then be smarter than them,” Jisung suggested with a wink.

 Jeongin looked confused, but nodded his head in what Jisung suspected was just respect and politeness.

 Jisung was about to say something along the lines of offering to buy the kid a banana milk, but he was cut off by a questioning voice. “Jeongin-ah?”

 There was a note of familiarity to the voice, and when he turned around, he saw Minho, dressed in all black and pulling a face mask down to his neck. His hair was fluffy, like he’d just brushed it, and Jisung watched as the uncertainty on his face melted into anger as he took in the situation.

 Jisung was surprised when Minho rounded on him with a glare. “Why the hell is he bleeding?” he hissed. He wasn’t yelling, but Jisung almost wished he was. His voice was quiet, dangerous.

 “I–” Jisung was so shocked by the anger being directed at him he didn’t know what to say, just kept staring open-mouthed at Minho. His heart was beating fast, but he knew it wasn’t out of fear.

 Jeongin stepped in front of Jisung quickly, waving his hands around to gain Minho’s attention. “It’s not like that, hyung! Jisung-ssi, just saved me,” he said quickly, the words running together in his attempt to get them all out.

 Minho didn’t move for a second longer, his glare shifting from Jisung to Jeongin, slowly softening, before he relaxed. “Jeongin-ah, what are you doing on this side of the city?” Minho said, exasperated. “I’ve told you this isn’t a good place to walk around, especially alone.”

 Jeongin rolled his eyes, and Jisung wondered what happened to the scared boy that he saw only minutes earlier. Jeongin was standing straight, even smiling a little bit at Minho, even though his lip was still bleeding. “All the stores were out of banana milk.”

 Jisung blinked at their interaction. Jeongin treated Minho like an old friend or older brother, and Jisung had never seen Minho so calm or relaxed. (Although he’d only known him for about half a week, but that was besides the point.) “I’m sorry, do you guys know each other?” he said dumbly.

 Jeongin smiled, showing off his braces. He wiped at his lip with his sleeve to clean off some of the blood before he spoke, “Yeah, I’ve known Minho-hyung for about a year ever since he moved–”

 “Okay, Jeongin,” Minho said, shooting what looked like a warning glance at the boy before he looked at Jisung. “He doesn’t need to know about any of that.”  
   
 Jisung pouted. He’d wanted to know what Jeongin was going to say–wanted at least some kind of hint about Minho, because the fighter was still a puzzle that he didn’t have all the pieces to, let alone was able to solve. “Why not?” he mumbled.

 Minho shot him an incredulous look. “Why not?” he laughed for a second. “You’re a Stray, that’s why. I don’t trust anyone in a gang.”

 Jisung’s mouth opened, then closed, but he decided to stay quiet. He didn’t know what to say anyways. To be honest, he was kind of hurt. He was used to people not trusting him (members of other gangs, old ladies on the streets, workers in stores), but he didn’t really like to hear it, and especially not from someone that he himself–for a reason he didn’t know–trusted.

 Jeongin, however, was frozen. His eyes widened, and for a second, Jisung thought he was scared all over again, but then he grinned mischievously. “You’re a Stray?” he asked.

 “Uh, yes?”

 “I’ve never met a member of a gang before! Do you have a tattoo?” Jeongin wondered. Jisung was strangely reminded of a puppy when the younger boy set his eyes on him, still smiling at him with all of his braces.

 With a confused look at Minho (who just rolled his eyes and shook his head), Jisung said, rather eloquently, “Uh, no.”

 Unperturbed, Jeongin began to grill him about being in a gang. _Who’s your leader?_ Chan-hyung. _Is he cool?_ I guess? _How many members are there?_ A lot. _Is it like a family?_ If you’re asking if Chan-hyung makes me clean my room then no.

 It was starting to seem like the boy could go on all day before Minho stepped in, annoyed. “Jeongin-ah, don’t you have to get to school? You’re not skipping are you?”

 For the first time since Minho got there, Jeongin looked a little scared. “Uh, no! You know me, hyung, I would never! I should go though,” Jeongin pouted, holding his hand out for Jisung to shake. “Thank you, Jisung-hyung, for saving me. I hope we meet again?”

 Before Jisung had the chance to respond, Jeongin was gone, running in the other direction with one last wave over his shoulder.

 “Well, he has a lot of life,” Jisung commented at the same time Minho accusingly said, “What are you doing here?”

 “Me? What am I doing here?” Jisung spluttered. “I just wanted some ramen! What the hell are _you_ doing here? Are you following me?”

 Minho scoffed before pushing past him to walk up the street. “Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Han Jisung.”

 Jisung hurried to catch up with him, after grabbing the grocery bag with his milk and ramen off the ground. “I didn’t say that. I just think it’s very convenient that you were here at the same time as me.”

 “Fine. If you have to know, I was going to meet someone, but they didn’t show up, so I was on my way to go see him,” Minho said, purposefully keep his voice detatched and vague, hoping this would quell Jisung’s curiosity.

 Jisung was surprised that he was able to wrestle even that much out of the older, and he gave him a wide smile, walking step in step. “Who is it?”

 “That’s none of your business. I only told you that much to get you off my back.” Minho cast a sideways glance at Jisung walking next to him and tried to hide a laugh by focusing on the sidewalk. “Now who’s following who?”

 “No one,” Jisung said simply, undeterred. “I was going back this way before I met Jeongin.”

 Minho hesitated for a second, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something before he sighed. “Is he okay?”

 Jisung raised an eyebrow at the older. “You have a soft spot, Minho?”

 Minho tensed, glaring at the sidewalk. “Fuck off.”

 Jisung’s heart fell when he realized the shift in the mood of the conversation, and he scrambled for a way to bring it back. “I’m sorry, that’s not a good joke to make when live the lives we do,” Jisung muttered, shaking his head at himself. “I won’t tell anyone about Jeongin, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s fine, by the way. Just took a hard punch to the face, but the kid’s got spirit. He’s a little naive, but he’ll be okay.”

  
 Minho stared at him for a second, his steps slowing to a stop. There was a look in his eyes that Jisung couldn’t read. They were just dark, calculating, as if they were trying to look for the same thing in Jisung’s gaze that Jisung was searching for in his. He shook his head and continued to walk, not looking back at the shorter boy, and Jisung decided to ignore it and follow him. “Reminds me of myself.”

 “What?” Minho said, obviously distracted.

 “Jeongin-ah,” Jisung clarified. “He reminds me of myself. I got into so many fights in high school. I mean, I won most of mine,” he added with a devilish grin.

 “He’s too curious for his own good,” Minho muttered, still in his thoughts. “I’m glad it was just you he met. If he’d met a Shark member...”

 Jisung was surprised at the admission, but he had to agree. “I guess that’s fair. I’m not the most terrifying gang member. I really need to work on that.”

 Minho’s eyes were soft when he looked at him, eyes roaming his face with a stolen moment, but he quickly glanced away. “I think you’re fine the way you are.”

 Jisung’s heart really was a traitor. It was already beating at inhuman speeds, and somehow it sped up at the older’s words. He pretended to pout to cover up the reaction, his ears turning a little red. “You’re just saying that because you like having some kind of hero complex for saving me.”

 Minho laughed, and Jisung grinned, loving the sound and the break in tension. “That’s not true. I hate hero complexes–that’s not how our world works. Every man for himself, no one helps anyone here without preset alliances.”

 Jisung grew serious, all of his teasing tone gone, and he stopped to really look at Minho. He knew his eyes were wide, trying to figure out the words that were lingering in the air. “Then why did you?”  
   
 Minho glanced away, ears tinging a light pink, almost unnoticeable. “What?” he asked, and Jisung knew he was playing dumb.

 Frustrated, Jisung tugged on Minho’s arm so that he would look at him, and, still holding lightly to his sleeve, he looked into the other’s eyes. “Why did you help me? For real, hyung?”

 Minho’s eyes darkened, and he refused to look at Jisung, his gaze wandering towards sides of the buildings around them. He bit his lip and stood still for a long time. Jisung hadn’t wanted to upset the other boy, but he wanted answers. Sensing that he wasn’t going to say something, Jisung stepped closer, daring to peer up into his eyes. “Because I’ve been trying to think it through,” Jisung whispered. At the continued silence, he grew irritated, and repeated Minho’s words back to him, begging for a response. “ _Every man for himself, right? No one helps each other?_ ” He sighed when he still didn’t receive an answer, before he tentatively reached up to place his hand on the taller boy’s face, gently bringing him to look in his eyes. “That’s not the way our world has to be, Minho.”

 “I know,” Minho muttered. With his face directed towards Jisung, his eyes fluttered, avoiding Jisung’s intense gaze. His eyes settled on the latter’s lips before he simply closed them.

 Jisung, disappointed, regretfully withdrew his hand from Minho’s face slowly, so that his fingertips lingered on his cheek for a little longer, sliding briefly to dance along his jaw then his neck, lightly enough to seem like an accident, before they were gone. “I don’t understand you, hyung,” Jisung said, his voice sad. He took a step back, trying to place space between them that should’ve been there all along. “It sucks to be alone in our world. I know, I’ve been there.”

 Minho’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You have?”

 Jisung took a shaky breath before he nodded. “Haven’t we all? I was alone for three months before Chan took me in.”

 “Why?”  
   
 “Why what?”  
       
 “Why were you on the streets?” Minho asked. It was obvious that he was trying to be as withdrawn as possible from the conversation, but he was curious.

 Jisung shrugged with a bitter laugh. “Same as anyone else, I guess. I was living with an old friend of mine–his name was Jaemin–because my mom kicked me out. She never really liked me much but I guess she finally gave up on me when she found me kissing another boy.” Jisung’s voice was nonchalant, but he watched Minho’s reaction out of the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction. He wasn’t exactly discreet about his sexuality, but he never knew how people would react when he told them.  
   
 Minho didn’t even blink. “So you joined the gang while you were living with your friend?”

 Jisung laughed sheepishly. “No, actually. This was a little over two years ago. Jaemin’s parents came home and saw us–um, well–kissing on the couch.”

 Minho’s mouth set, and Jisung couldn’t tell if he was pissed or trying to hold some other reaction. Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything. “It’s kind of funny, that was the second house I was kicked out of in the course of a year. Jaemin tried really hard, but there wasn’t a point. So, I left. And, well, three months later, Chan meets me inside a coffee shop and the rest is history.”  
   
 Minho’s upper lip twitched, eyes lighting in something similar to recognition. “That easy?” he asked casually, taking Jisung aback with the vagueness of the question.

 Jisung laughed. “I wouldn’t call it easy, but I guess, that’s how the story goes.”

 “How could you trust him?”

 Jisung had to think about that, frowning. When Chan found him, he was barely living off the sympathy of the kind coffee shop owner who gave him a slice of coffee cake in the morning and a sandwich in the afternoon. He knew it could’ve been worse, but sometimes he remembered what it was like to be in that place–alone and afraid–and he couldn’t imagine what would have happened without Chan. It had been so easy to trust him, too. From the moment Chan spotted him, asleep, in the back of the shop and offered to buy him something, give him a comfortable and safe place to sleep. “I guess,” he started, tentatively, still thinking, “I was in such a bad position that I took what I could get. The thought never crossed my mind that maybe I couldn’t trust him.”

 Minho shook his head, deep in thought. Jisung was just about to give up on the idea that he might get something other than dark looks and vague questions, before he heard him say, “Jisung?”, his voice deathly quiet.

 “Yeah?” Jisung responded, looking at him carefully, like he was a scared animal that might spook if you turned the light on.

 “The other day–I helped you because something didn’t settle right with me.” Minho’s eyes were glued to the ground, eyebrows furrowed, and Jisung was just starting to understand that their situation was just as confusing to him. “Which is stupid. I’ve seen lots of fights and I’ve ignored them.”

 “What are you saying?”

 “I’m saying I don’t know why,” Minho snapped, his voice stern and scolding. Then he softened a bit, running a hand through his hair and adding a quiet, “I don’t know, Jisung. I guess...” his voice was hesitant, and he avoided Jisung’s eyes, “I guess you reminded me of someone.”

 “Okay,” Jisung said, nodding, knowing that it was best not to press it. “Thank you.” In an attempt to make the mood lighter, he grinned, and said, “Bet you wish you left me to them now, though.”  
   
 Minho rolled his eyes, nudging him as they began to walk again. “Yeah, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since.”

 They walked for a little longer, the mood of their conversation light, before Minho stopped and smirked at him. “And this is you, right?” he said, gesturing to the house they just stopped in front of.  
   
 Shocked, Jisung looked around before he realized that it was the house he shared with the other boys. “Hey! What the hell, how do you know that? This is supposed to be a secret!”

 Minho just laughed. “You’re not the only one who knows things,” he said teasingly. “Don’t worry, as far as I know, I’m the only one who knows about this house. And I–I won’t tell anyone.”

 “Good. Because I would kick your ass if you did.” Jisung headed towards the door, stopping at the door when Minho softly called his name from the street. He turned to see Minho biting his lip and kicking a rock, uncertain. “Yeah, hyung?”

 “Not for a second.” He met Jisung’s eyes steadily.

 Confused, Jisung tilted his head. “What?”

 “I don’t regret helping you out. Not for a second.”  
   
 And then Minho turned and walked away, pulling the mask back over his mouth as he crossed the street.

 The house was quiet when Jisung finally went back into the house. It was weird, for the house to be so silent, when he was used to it being full of noise. Either Changbin making weird noises, or Seungmin and Felix playing video games. Chan tended to be more quiet, and subtle, staying awake late into the hours of the night, either planning how to keep the gang running or gain more territory. Sometimes, when Jisung was awake, he would think of helping his leader, but he knew there was no point–Chan had a tendency for trying to keep as many people as safe as possible, putting himself in the most danger.

 Jisung walked into the kitchen, placing his bag on the counter and unpacking everything. He heated up his ramen and sat at the counter, his fingers clicking anxiously on the table. He checked his phone, but he didn’t have any notifications.

 After another five minutes, he decided to call Chan. It went straight to voicemail. The same happened with both Changbin and Woojin. He was just about to call Felix when a pair of footsteps came bounding down the stairs, scaring the shit out of Jisung.

 “Oh! Jisung,” Felix exclaimed, seeing him. Jisung narrowed his eyes, taking in how nervous the other boy looked. His eyes were red like he’d just been crying. “I didn’t hear you come home.”

 Jisung blinked at the freckled boy, before standing, ramen forgotten. “I just got here. What’s going on, Felix? Where is everyone?”

 Felix bit his lip, eyes darting towards the ground. “I stayed behind to tell you–but you’re not going to like it.”

 Jisung tensed, his heart beating as his mind began to run, thinking the worst. “Just tell me, Felix.”

 “It’s Seungmin,” he said, voice quivering, “He’s in the hospital.”

 

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's that.   
> Also have Jaemin because I'm multifandom trash and I love Na Jaemin sO  
> Thank you for reading, tell me what you think!! :)))


	6. Chapter 6

 Jisung froze, and everything blurred together. He stared at Felix, watching as the boy’s eyes filled with tears, and his heart began to beat fast, scared. “What–” he began, but he cut himself off, not sure he was ready to know. He shook his head, an indication that the thought was gone. “We need to go,” he said, his voice gruff. He was fighting back the panic, and the sudden anger that was also capturing him.

 Felix’s eyes widened. “Chan told me to stay behind,” he told Jisung, a sad look in his eyes. “And Woojin’s on his way here, too. If this was more than just–well, someone needs to stay here.”

 Jisung nodded, understanding. Feeling was bubbling up in his chest, and he felt like he was going to scream. He took a couple breaths to try to keep himself calm. Seungmin was the closest thing he had to a little brother–even though he wasn’t actually that much younger than him, Jisung had always felt protective of him. Seungmin, who joined the gang later than him, and with no specific reason–other than _“I was bored”_. Seungmin, who was still in college, and one of the smartest people that Jisung knew.

 Jisung would _kill_ the person who hurt him.  
   
 He stalked towards the door in a haze, putting his shoes and coat on mindlessly before he headed out the door.

 He wasn’t quite sure, in all honesty, how he made it to the hospital in record time, considering he walked, and he didn’t remember the majority of the trip, just the anger and hate boiling up in him, replacing his panic.

 He found himself in the waiting room, shivering a little and scanning the faces until he found Changbin and Chan, mirror images of each other–tucked into themselves, heads in their hands. His sigh of relief was short-lived, and he hurried over to them. His breathing was uneven and he felt sick.

 “What happened?” he demanded when he reached them. When they looked up at them, their eyes were sad, pitying. This fueled Jisung’s ire. “What the _fuck_ ha–”

 Chan stood up abruptly, giving Changbin a meaningful look before he dragged Jisung into a hallway near the waiting room, but with much less people. Jisung was fuming, throwing Chan’s hand off his arm as he glared. “What the hell, hyung? Why is Seungmin in the hospital? Does this have to do with the Sharks? Because if it does, I swear to God, I’ll kill them.” Jisung’s hands were clenched and his jaw hurt from how tense he was, scowling at his leader.

 Chan ran his hands through his hair, glimpsing around at the nurses passing by them with a curious look, but altogether ignoring them. “First of all, you need to calm down, Jisung.”

 Jisung scoffed, throwing his hands in the air incredulously. “Calm down? Right, yes. Seungmin is in the hospital and I don’t know what’s going on and it’s probably the Sharks and no one is fucking _telling me_ anything, but yes, I need to _calm down_ ,” Jisung spat, his voice still elevated.

 Chan’s eyes darkened dangerously, before he roughly pulled Jisung by the arm into the room behind him, which was thankfully empty. “What the fuck, Jisung,” he hissed as he shut the door behind them. “You need to calm down and think about what you’re doing, if they find out we’re gang members, they won’t help Seungmin so get your shit together and let me _talk._ ”

 The words hit Jisung sharply, and, even though he was still pissed and frustrated with the situation, he began to take deep breaths. Looking down at the ground, he grumbled out, “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

 Chan gave Jisung a sympathetic look, all of the anger leaving his eyes before he nodded. “Right, okay. We have that settled.”

 “What happened?” Jisung asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

 “I wish I knew,” Chan said honestly, pacing the room nervously. “I got the call saying Seungmin was,” his voice stuttered, a crack in his confidence, and he took a deep breath before he was able to continue, “–he was hit by a car while he was out today. I’m guessing he was on the way to the house.”

 Jisung froze, his own anger beginning to melt away into fear. “Hit by a car?” he whispered back. “Is–is he–”

 Chan’s eyes softened, and he pulled Jisung into a hug quickly. “He’ll be okay, Sungie, don’t worry. The doctor said that he broke his leg pretty bad and he has a concussion, but nothing too permanent.”

 When Jisung breathed, it was shaky and Chan’s t-shirt was damp with tears, but he pulled away carefully, trying to collect himself. “I’m sorry, hyung, I was just–so scared.”

 “Sh,” Chan hushed, offering him a smile, then wiping Jisung’s tears with his sleeve. “We all were. But it’ll be okay.”

 Jisung nodded, wiping his eyes with his hands before gathering himself. He smiled a little bit. “I didn’t know you were Seungminnie’s emergency contact.”

 Chan chuckled a little. “Me either, but I’m glad we’re here for him. Doc said we’ll be able to see him soon.”

 “Okay,” Jisung responded, finally feeling a little bit of relief. Chan was about to open the door so they could head back out when Jisung remembered. “Hyung? Was it the Sharks?” he asked quietly, some of the anger from before returning, but darker, quieter.

 Chan stopped, his body tense. When he turned around to look at Jisung, the latter saw, for the first time that day, just how furious Chan was, and Jisung was almost scared for whoever hurt Seungmin. Chan looked ready to kill. “I don’t know. But don’t worry, when I find out, there will be hell to pay.”

 “Good.”

 After ensuring that Jisung was finally calm, the two of them left the room and rejoined Changbin, who was waiting for them anxiously. Jisung smiled a little, sitting down next to Changbin carefully. “All good?” the older whispered to him. He offered him a comforting smile, which Jisung appreciated.

 “All good,” Jisung confirmed, clasping his hands together as they waited.

 The Sharks had already attacked the Strays by beating up Jisung, and if this was their doing, it was too far. Seungmin could’ve died. This couldn’t continue, and Jisung was starting to get worried. Sure, there had always been skirmishes between the two gangs, but not so many attacks that were so planned out, with a real purpose. On top of that, Seungmin was either a really random victim, or the Sharks know more about the members of the gang than the Strays originally thought.

 For about a year, Seungmin had been their main hacker, and he handled just about everything that dealt with technology–transactions, communications, information. Hurting Seungmin, on a logical level, was a hard hit for their team. Not to mention that he was like a brother to all of them. Despite being in college, and living in a dorm fairly far from their house, Seungmin was loyal, and loving, always stopping by to make sure the older members are getting enough food or sleep.

 “Byung Chan?” a nurse called, frowning at a clipboard and pushing her glasses up her nose.

 If he were in a lighter mood, Jisung would laugh at the fake name, which was too close to Chan’s real name but, according to Chan “doesn’t make him sound too much like a gang leader”.

 Chan stood up quickly, followed by the other two, and she frowned again. “Only two right now, we don’t want to overwhelm him,” she said, tone dull.

 Chan gave them a questioning look, and only the light tapping of his hand against his thigh gave away how nervous he was. “Uh, which of you–?”

 Jisung was on his feet quickly, tossing an apologetic look over his shoulder at Changbin, who was still sitting. “Can I–is it alright if I–” he stuttered

 Changbin nodded, his expression solemn.

 Chan and Jisung followed the nurse past the door and down a hallway with a series of rooms. Not looking up from her clipboard, she stopped outside of a door, standing to the side to allow the boys entrance. “Don’t be too long,” she said, bored, “He’s going to need to rest.”

 Chan’s lip twitched in annoyance, but he bowed anyways, muttering a _thank you_ as he led the way into the room.

 Settling his heartbeat, Jisung shut the door behind him. In the bed, Seungmin looked small, his leg in a tight white cast and a large bandage covering one side of his head. He had a black eye a couple of scattered bruises, and he was frowning into a cup of jell-o, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He looked up as Chan sat in the chair next to the bed, and pouted. “Hyung, I’ve been awake for twenty minutes and all they’ve given me is this shitty lime jell-o you have to get me _out_ of here.”

 Despite himself, Jisung laughed, leaning forward to grasp Seungmin’s hand quickly. “I’m happy you’re okay, Seungminnie.”

 Seungmin sighed dramatically, looking at his cast. “Sure I’m fine, but have you seen my laptop?” he said, eyes sad. “She’s dead, gone, ruined.”

 Chan laughed. “Changbin picked up your stuff already, and the laptop is basically just shards of glass, but–” Seungmin looked up hopefully at this, and Chan grinned, “–but the USB and the SD card were unharmed, so nothing was lost.” At Seungmin’s sigh of relief, Chan pat his arm affectionately. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you another one. Also, I called your college earlier and told them you won’t be able to go for a couple weeks. You’ll be able to catch up with classes online, though.”  
   
 “You’re the best, hyung,” Seungmin said, and, despite everything he’d gone through, his eyes were light and optimistic.

 “How do you feel?” Jisung asked hesitantly, still holding his friend’s hand.

 Seungmin glanced at his leg and shrugged. “I’m hopped up on some pretty good pain meds right now, so I feel pretty okay.”

 Jisung shifted back in his seat to inspect Seungmin, then pulled his legs up onto the chair. “Could’ve been a lot better. You’re going to stay with us, though, so we’ll have a lot of fun,” Jisung said, trying to keep his tone bright for the younger boy.

 Seungmin’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Chan. “Really? Honestly, I could just stay in my dorm–my roommate, Jeno, is really great and he already knows–”

 Chan shook his head with a small smile. “Of course you’re going to stay with us, Seungminnie, there’s no way we’re letting you out of our sight until you’re better.”

 “Maybe not even then,” Jisung muttered. He gave Seungmin a careful look, hesitant and curious. “Do you remember what happened? Who did this?”

 Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung giving him a sharp look that said ‘this isn’t the time’, but Seungmin just took a deep breath. “I don’t really remember everything,” Seungmin said, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “I was going to go see Chan about something,” he struggled for a minute, trying to remember the specific details, then shook his head. “There was a car behind me–I don’t know if it was following me or for how long, but when I went to cross the street, they hit me.”  
   
 “So it was orchestrated?” Chan prompted gently.

 Seungmin poked at the jell-o in his hand a little bit more before he met Chan’s eyes. “I don’t know, hyung. I didn’t see the driver, and as far as I know they didn’t stop.” As an afterthought, he added, “But it was too careful to be an accident.”

 “What do you mean?”

 For the first time since they walked into the room, Seungmin’s smile truly dropped, and his eyes darkened. “If it was an accident, I’d be dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a pretty short chapter, so I decided to update today! Sorry it's so short, but it has some important stuff :')  
> I love Seungmin, and I really hope he gets better soon for real!!!   
> Also, angst??? I don't know her :')


	7. Chapter 7

 After two more days, the hospital deemed Seungmin healthy enough to go home, and there was an immediate sense of relief to have the boy in the house instead of that hospital room. Even with one of the older members staying with him the majority of the time, there was still the fear and knowledge that they didn’t quite know who did it, although both Chan and Jisung were willing to bet money it was the Sharks.  
   
 Moving Seungmin into Chan’s bedroom was no easy feat. The guest bedroom was upstairs, and there was no reasonable way for Seungmin to make it up and down the stairs, and the only room downstairs was Chan’s (who insisted that Seungmin was _not_ going to sleep on the couch). First they had to clean it, because Chan was a mess and there were papers everywhere. Then they found a way to set up a table that Seungmin could work at with his cast, which also had his new laptop (with all of the old one’s information). They also had to basically carry him in there, because even though he had crutches, he was still rather weak and the doctor suggested as little time up as possible.

 Despite all of the change, things didn’t really change. Woojin decided to stay for a couple of days to ensure the health of the younger member (which everyone knew meant he didn’t trust Chan, or anyone else for that matter, to cook, and Seungmin “couldn’t live off of takeout, you heathens”). Felix, who had always been close to Seungmin since they both joined the gang two months apart, was happy to be able to spend time with his friend, and constantly doted on him. (Jisung noticed, with no small amount of amusement, the effect these actions had on Changbin, but Felix was, unfortunately, oblivious, and it was no place for Jisung to point out the obvious, so he continued to go about his own business.)

 After a week, things started to calm down more. They’d all decided that they weren’t going to let whoever hurt Seungmin off easily, but also that they weren’t going to blame the Sharks just yet, since they had no evidence and Seungmin had yet to recall anything about the driver of the car that hit him. Chan informed them that he and Changbin would both do as much as they could to figure out the perpetrator the next time they went to the underground.

 Jisung, impatient as ever, agreed that was the best route, but he was still seething, desperate to know. So he went a different way.

 Lee Minho was a hard person to find. It took two days of him absently wandering the streets around where they first met, going as far as the abandoned street that was used for the last underground fights. Jisung asked a couple other Strays–not anyone that could or would relay information to Chan, because he wasn’t sure how he felt about the leader knowing about his search for the fighter–but no one knew where he would be, only where he _had_ been.  
   
 Just when he was about to give up on his expedition, Minho found _him_ , sitting on a park bench with a notebook in his hands. He stood over him, the same black mask pulled over his mouth, but Jisung could tell he was frowning as he narrowed his eyes. Jisung gaped at him, surprised, as his heartbeat picked up in his chest.

 “Why are you looking for me?” he said, hands in his pockets. His words were blunt, and he looked like he wanted to leave at any second.

 Jisung gazed up at him, confused for a second. “Okay, wait. I look for you for two days, and you find me in, what, an hour?” he said in disbelief.

 Minho rolled his eyes, looking hesitant for the shortest second, before he sat down on the bench next to him, carefully putting space between them. “It’s not hard if you know what you’re doing.”

 “Two days! I was looking for two days!” Jisung said, exasperated.

 Minho shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

 Jisung nodded, shifting so that his body was facing Minho. “I guess. Did someone tell you I was looking for you?” he asked.

 Minho laughed a little, his eyes scraping around the park before he pulled his face mask down to his neck to be able to talk. “You’re not really subtle. I’ve known for almost both days you were looking for me. I figured you’d give up, though.”

 “I almost did,” Jisung said. He closed his notebook and set it to the side, trying to ignore the way Minho watched the action carefully. “But it was important.”

 Minho sighed. “I thought so. But you know how I feel about anything gang related, Jisung, I can’t help you.”

 Jisung’s heart dropped in disappointment, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Then why did you come?”

 Minho looked taken aback, and he turned away to avoid Jisung’s questioning gaze. He didn’t say anything, and, feeling a sense of achievement, he slid closer to Minho. “Just hear me out, please.”

 Minho was quiet for a long moment before he silently nodded.

 Jisung took a steadying breath before he started talking. “My friend, Seungmin, was just in the hospital.” Minho didn’t look surprised at this, so he continued. “It was a car accident. He’s okay, nothing permanent, but...” he trailed off, waiting to see a reaction in Minho.

 “But you think it was the Sharks,” Minho finished for him.

 “Yeah,” Jisung admitted.

 Minho nodded. “I heard about that happening. I’m happy he’s okay,” he said. Jisung could tell he was telling the truth, and there was a brief, hesitant pause before Minho continued. “What about you, though? Are you okay?” he asked, concern melting into his voice. His eyes raked over Jisung, as if he was searching for anything that could possibly be wrong.

 “I’m fine,” Jisung assured him. He frowned, staring down at his hands fisted in his lap. “But it can’t happen again. I’m sick of people around me getting hurt, and for what? A missing member?”

 Minho shook his head. “You don’t know that it was the Sharks.”

 Jisung scoffed, then rolled his eyes. “Do you actually believe that it _wasn’t_ ,” he demanded. When Minho was silent, Jisung laughed bitterly. “Of course it was the Sharks. I just need evidence, or a name. Either would be good for me.”

 “Is that why you were looking for me?” Minho asked, understanding finally dawning on him. Jisung held his breath as he looked at the other boy, scared he would be angry, but he only found a cautious, curious stare.

 Jisung nodded slowly, biting his lip. “You have a way of knowing things around here. I thought that–if you didn’t know already–you’d be able to find something. Some sort of information,” he said carefully, watching for Minho’s reaction.

 Minho sighed. “I thought it would be something like that.” He went quiet for a while, focused on something in the distance that Jisung wasn’t quite sure he understood. When Minho finally spoke again, it was with a shake of his head, and a sad tone to his voice, “I’m sorry, Jisung. You have to know that I can’t. I don’t want anything to do with gangs, and if I help out the Strays, that’s too much of a gray area.” Minho gave him a calculating gaze. “And you have to know how the Sharks feel about me by now.”

 Jisung snorted. “Chan says they’re basically obsessed with you–trying to get you on their side.”

 “Basically,” Minho affirmed.

 Jisung stood up and turned to him, as both a way to burn off nervous energy and to be able to look him in the eye. “Minho, I know you don’t want to be associated, but it’s not like that. I mean, technically, it is, but for me, this doesn’t have anything to do with gangs. Someone hurt my friend. Could’ve killed him. I want to know who.”

 “Jisung–”

 “I know you’re going to say it’s still too much, but what’s the worst that could happen? You don’t find out who? Whatever, Chan will eventually, I’m sure of it. Besides, if the Sharks sense something shady maybe they’ll get off your back,” Jisung added as a hopeful afterthought.

 Minho shot him a disbelieving look. “If you really think they’ll leave me alone, then you’re an idiot.”

 Jisung sat back down, closer to him this time, so that their thighs just barely touched, and forced the older to look him in the eyes. “Minho, please,” he whispered.

 Minho held his intense gaze for a second before his eyes dropped, and he turned away. “Fine,” he muttered.

 Jisung’s heart soared, and he grinned, big and genuine. “Thank you, this means the world,” he said, breathless.

 Minho sent him a sharp glare. “This means nothing,” he snapped. “And after this, no more, okay?” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “No more,” he repeated, quieter.

 Jisung’s heart–which had been in the clouds, filled with happiness only seconds earlier–dropped. He blinked. Once, twice. “No more, what?” he asked, his voice trembling briefly.

 Minho winced a little, then stood up, hands in his pockets. All Jisung could see was his back, but Minho’s voice was steady when he finally responded. “No more of this Jisung. No more of you looking for me, no more helping you. After this, we’re strangers.”  
   
 Despite himself, Jisung felt like an arrow had gone through him, directly hitting his heart. He stared at Minho’s back, willing him to turn around and face him, to take back what he’d just said. They were just beginning to know each other, and–Jisung had hoped–trust each other, and Minho was pushing him away. He should’ve seen it coming, but it hurt him all the same. “Fine,” Jisung muttered. “I get it. No gang ties, right? Not even friends. Not even me.”

 Jisung watched the muscles in Minho’s back tense. “I can’t, Jisung. I just can’t,” he finally sighed.

 Jisung’s heart clenched. “For all your strength and fighting,” he said, his voice shaking (whether it was sadness or anger, he didn’t know), “You’re still a coward, Lee Minho.” He waited for Minho to do something–anything–but there was nothing, and Jisung let out a breath, disappointed. “Right. If you find anything, text me, if you still have my number and if not–”

 “I still have it,” Minho said, and his voice was almost carried away by the wind, but Jisung heard it. He wished he hadn’t.

 “Right,” Jisung repeated. “Well, when this is all done, make sure you delete it,” he said, a tone of finality to his voice. He turned around to walk away, looking for a second to see Minho still standing there, motionless. He wished more than ever that he could see the look on his face. “Goodbye, Minho.”

—

 “Jisung-ah!” Chan called when Jisung shut the front door behind him.

 Jisung sighed, not in the mood to talk to his leader, knowing that he wore his heart on his sleeve and there was a certain weight bearing him down. He stopped at the stairs up to his room, glancing at the dining room where he knew Chan would be at the table, probably working. “Chan, I’m really tired, can I please just–”

 There was a quick laugh, then Chan said, “Just a minute, Jisung. Please.”  
   
 Jisung sighed again, sending a longing look up the stairs to where his bedroom was before he followed Chan’s voice into the dining room.

 Chan was where he thought he would be, papers scattered around him. Jisung knew that he wouldn’t understand any of it, but it always piqued his interest. “Yes, hyung?” Jisung asked cautiously, hand resting on the back of a chair. He debated, briefly, on pulling it out and sitting, but he decided against it, selfishly hoping this conversation wouldn’t last too long.

 “Where’d you go?” Chan questioned casually, not even looking up.

 Jisung froze, trying to figure out what Chan’s game was. “Went out,” he responded.

 Chan raised an eyebrow, still not looking at the younger boy. “Where?”

 Irritation bubbled up in Jisung’s chest and he huffed. “Hyung, you’re not my mom,” he snapped.

 Chan let out a breath, then leaned back and pushed the papers away, an indication that he was giving Jisung his full attention. “I know, Sungie,” he said, his voice soft. The nickname only made Jisung feel guilty for snapping at him, but he didn’t apologize, just shifted on his feet. “I’m just worried. I know that you’ve been looking for Minho.”

 “Oh,” was all Jisung said, before he looked down at the table, ashamed.

 “I know that I told you that we wanted him on our side, and that we wanted him to trust us, but I need to know that you’re being careful, yeah? I don’t know where he stands with the Sharks, and with what happened to Seungmin...”

 Jisung had to bite his lip to keep from scoffing. Minho didn’t have any ties with anyone, that was obvious. “Doesn’t matter, hyung. I wasn’t able to find him, I think I’m just going to give up on him.”

 Chan was silent for a long moment, staring at Jisung like he could read past his lies and tell what really happened. When Jisung said nothing more, Chan simply nodded, then pulled his paper back to him. Jisung turned to walk away, finally go to his bed, when Chan said, “Jisung?”

 Jisung stopped. “Yeah?” he muttered.

 “You know you can tell me anything, right?” He phrased it like a question, but Jisung knew it was a statement.

 Jisung held back a bitter laugh, and a quip along the lines of ‘only if you do the same’, before he responded with, “I know, hyung. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Hope you liked it, tell me what you think!  
> Also I had to go back and write a whole chapter to make the next chapter because I felt like there was too much going on all at once, but then plot! happened so  
> Also I just love Chan so much, in real life and in the story like :') you're doing great, sweetie


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm home sick, so here's an update :)  
> Just a heads up, I won't be home all weekend, so I'm not going to be able to post until Sunday  
> This chapter is half-filler (soft! Seungmin!) and half-plot, and I'm sorry if it feels kind of rushed, I'm not too sure I'm happy with it, but here you go

The bell to the café chimed as Jisung walked in, reveling in the sound. It always managed to bring him comfort, along with the smell of coffee that wafted over him. He tugged his baseball cap down over his eyes to be subtle as he walked up to the counter. He smiled widely at the girl behind it. “Goodmorning,” he said, grinning at her.  
   
 Nayeon rolled her eyes, but smiled back at him nevertheless. “It’s twelve, Jisungie.”

 When Chan had told a group of the Strays that he had reason to suspect some Sharks to be at the Park Rose today, at noon, probably meeting members of another gang or random street rats, Jisung jumped at the opportunity to go. Not only did he want to fish out if it was them who hurt Seungmin because Minho had been silent for the past couple of days, but he also loved the cafe–it being the one that had fed him before he met Chan. His leader wasn’t entirely sure he should let Jisung go (probably because Jisung was known to frequent the café), but he’d allowed him to go with the promise that he would act normal and subtle.

 Talking to Nayeon _was_ normal, so Jisung just shrugged. “Close enough” he told her. He ordered an Americano and a slice of cake, paid, then picked out a little table in the corner of the café (on the opposite end than the one he used to frequent, because he hadn’t sat there since he met Chan, and he promised himself he never would again).

 Nayeon was quick with his food, walking it over to his table and sliding down across from him. Jisung raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you have to work?” he asked, digging into his cake shamelessly.

 Nayeon tossed her hair back and crossed her arms. “I’m on break,” she answered. Amusement shined in her eyes as she watched him eat.

 Jisung snorted unattractively. “There’s no one else working,” he pointed out.

 “Minor details,” she easily deflected.

 “Is your grandma here?” Jisung asked curiously. “I haven’t seen her in a while and I want to say hi.”

 Nayeon shook her head. “No, she’s out,” she said vaguely.

 “Doing what?”

 “Nothing important. What have you been up to lately, Jisungie?” Nayeon asked. She grimaced when Jisung used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face and handed him a napkin.

 Jisung noticed the change of subject, but decided to ignore it, leaning back in his seat. “Not much, really,” he lied.

 Nayeon rolled her eyes, a common occurrence when she was talking to Jisung. “Really? I highly doubt that, considering what you do,” she said, her voice light but suggestive. Jisung tensed, looking around the café and motioned for her to be quiet.

 “I’m actually kind of... doing something right now,” he told her.

 She raised her eyebrows, following his line of sight around the empty café, then back to him. Jisung knew his face was serious, and he was holding himself with importance, but there was also still a little bit of cake on the corner of his mouth, causing Nayeon to laugh. “Sure okay, Sungie.”

 Jisung whined a little. “Noona,” he said. “Come on, just let me be cool, okay?

 Nayeong cooed and laughed harder. “I remember when you were a tiny little teenage boy, you used to be so nice to me, now you’re just a brat.”

 “Am not!”

 The bell rang, signaling that another customer had entered, and she giggled, throwing the napkin in Jisung’s face. “Have to go, Jisungie, I have a job to do. Don’t stir up too much trouble, okay?

 Jisung grumbled noncommittally.

 “And stay safe,” she added, softer.

 Jisung looked up, meeting her eyes. There was concern there, and he found himself nodding. “I will,” he responded, nodding. “Thank you, noona.”

 He watched her go fondly as she greeted the new customer, but the smile fell from his face when he noticed who the customer was. He looked around the room like he could find somewhere to hide, and was about to just slump down in his chair and pull the cap farther over his eyes to avoid being seen, but it was already too late. The boy had seen him, and he was walking to his table with a hesitant smile.

 “Hyung?” he asked. When Jisung didn’t respond, he tried again, leaning over the table to look closer at Jisung’s hunched form. “ _Jisung_ -hyung,” the boy said confidently. “I know that’s you.”

 Jisung sighed, taking his hat off and offering a pained smile. “Hi, Jeongin-ah,” he said.

 Jeongin’s grin brightened, braces gleaming in the café light. “I knew it was you,” he said happily. “What are you doing here?”

 Jisung glanced behind Jeongin at two people who entered, but decided that the elderly couple who were linked by the arms were _not_ Sharks. “Nothing,” he said, distracted.

 Jeongin frowned, looking behind him to try to locate what Jisung was looking at, then looking back to Jisung in confusion. “Why are you so jumpy, hyung?”

 Jisung groaned, quickly learning that this kid was not going to leave any time soon, and motioned for Jeongin to sit down. “Okay, fine,” he said. “I’m supposed to be doing something for my gang,” he whispered. At the word ‘gang’, Jeongin perked up with interest, leaning in. “But I need to be at least a little subtle, okay?”

 Jeongin nodded seriously, and Jisung was hoping that meant he understood what he was implying, but he didn’t move, just continue to stare Jisung down thoughtfully. “Does it have anything to do with why Minho-hyung has been gone so much recently?” he asked innocently.

 Caught off guard, Jisung stopped scanning the café to stare, dumbfounded, at Jeongin. “What did you just say?”

 Jeongin furrowed his eyebrows, then shrugged. “Minho-hyung,” he clarified, like Jisung didn’t know who that was. “For the past three days he leaves early in the evening and doesn’t get home until really late in the morning–like, the next day. It gets lonely without him,” he pouted.

 Jisung blinked at Jeongin, all the focus on his reason for being at the café gone. “What are you talking about?”

 Jeongin tilted his head in confusion before his eyes widened with a guilty look. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh!” he exclaimed, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t know. I thought...”

 “What?” Jisung demanded.

 “Oh, Minho-hyung is going to _kill_ me. I’m too young to die. I haven’t even gotten my braces off yet, hyung! I don’t want to die,” Jeongin cried, rubbing his hands down his face in stress.

 “Jeongin-ah,” Jisung hissed sternly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

 Jeongin shook his head, and Jisung growled dangerously. “Tell me.”

 “Fine,” Jeongin said, breaking easily. “But you can’t tell Minho-hyung I told you.”

 Surprised, Jisung mimed crossing his heart as a promise, and Jeongin, apparently satisfied, began to speak. “Minho-hyung is my neighbor. He lives in the apartment next to mine.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows. “Yours? Aren’t you too young to live alone?”

 Jeongin’s face dropped and he traced the table with his fingers uncomfortably. “Well, technically I’m not alone. But I usually am, most days.” At Jisung’s confused silence, Jeongin sighed. “My mom pays the rent–well, sometimes–but I’m really the only one who stays there. She... doesn’t come home often. And if she does, it’s mostly just for a change of clothes and to leave a little money on the table for food. Like 30,000 won is enough to last me more than a week,” Jeongin said darkly.

 Jisung’s heart broke a little, and he reached forward to pat Jisung on the arm. “I’m sorry, that’s really shitty,” he mumbled. Deep down, he was pissed at the younger boy’s mom. It wasn’t just shit–it was child neglect. He had the urge to protect the boy across from him, but the best he could do is offer some comfort.

 “Yeah,” Jeongin agreed sadly. Then he took a deep breath and was smiling again, surprising Jisung. “But it’s not so bad! I have Minho-hyung. He buys me food all the time and lets me stay in his apartment when I get lonely. And I have Hyunjin-hyung, so I’m okay.”

 Jisung smiled. “That’s good, Jeongin-ah.”

 Jeongin nodded. “Yeah, but lately he seems a little tense and hurried. I mean, I have a spare key so I can get anything I need but...” Jeongin trailed off, glaring at his hands clasped together on the table. “I don’t know, I’m worried about him.” When he looked up, his eyes were big, sad.

 Jisung felt a stab of guilt. If Minho was out trying to find dirt on the Sharks, it was the reason that Jeongin was feeling lonely, and he wanted to just be able to tell Minho to stop looking, but had no way of getting in touch with him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

 “It’s not like it’s your fault,” Jeongin said with a shake of his head, and Jisung felt another jolt of guilt.

 “Yeah,” Jisung mumbled vaguely.

 Jisung checked around the café, remembering that he was here to do something, then sighed when he checked the time on his phone. If the Sharks weren’t here by know, he figured they weren’t going to be here at all, and Chan just got bad information. He turned his attention to Jeongin, who was still frowning, deep in thought. “How about I buy you another coffee?” Jisung asked, smiling softly at Jeongin.

 Jeongin agreed happily, and when they settled back down, both with new, hot drinks, he seemed to be in a much better mood. “I like your ring, hyung,” he said, wiping away the foam mustache that collected at the top of his mouth.

 Jisung stared down at his finger, then laughed at the silver band with red gems studded around it. “Thanks. All the Strays have one of some kind,” he said, taking it off to show Jeongin. “Look, it has my initials on the inside,” he informed him, pointing to the letters _HJS_ scrawled around the band.

 “Wow,” Jeongin breathed. He slid his fingers over the gems, then the initials, before handing it back to Jisung. “So cool.”

 Jisung chuckled. “I guess.”

 “Hyung, what’s it like to be in a gang?” Jeongin asked. His eyes were wide, curious.

 Laughing harder, Jisung shook his head. “I think if I told you anything about gang life, Minho would actually kill me, and _I’m_ too young to die, too,” he said, echoing Jeongin’s previous fears.

 Jeongin nodded seriously. “Minho-hyung is terrifying when he’s angry.”

 Jisung raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

 “Yeah!” Jeongin giggled, leaning over the table to Jisung conspiratorially. “One time I heard screaming from his apartment, and I went over to check if he was okay–carrying a baseball bat, obviously–and I found him standing on a chair and screaming at a really big bug that was flying around the apartment.”

 Jisung laughed so hard he had to grab his sides because they hurt, just imagining the image. “No way!”

 “I’m not lying!” Jeongin exclaimed. “ _I_ had to kill it! After, he was so embarrassed that he didn’t talk to me for a week, so I just sat on his couch and ate his food.”

 “That’s hilarious,” Jisung said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’ll have to use that one against him.” He stopped laughing suddenly as he said those words. Jeongin didn’t notice, still giggling across the table, but Jisung’s heart dropped. Right. What Minho had said. _After this, we’re strangers._

 He shook off his sadness when Jeongin finally noticed the mood change. “Are you okay, hyung?”

 Jisung shook his head, smiling. “Fine, Jeonginnie. Do you have any more stories?”

 Jeongin smiled evilly. “Tons.”

—

 Jisung flopped down on the other side of Seungmin’s bed with a long sigh, trying to get the attention of the boy who was caught up on his laptop.

 He’d spent almost four hours with Jeongin, just talking. By the time he’d finally returned to the house, it was dark, and Chan had run up to him, worried and demanding to know what happened. Even though Jisung had assured him that he’d just let time get away from him, that the Sharks didn’t even show up, Chan had still pressed him for anything, not believing the simple answer. It was a long process, and after the whole day, he was honestly just really tired.

 Seungmin didn’t look up from his laptop, and Jisung huffed again, louder this time. When he still didn’t get a response, he laid his head on the younger boy’s lap, over the keyboard of his computer.

 Seungmin sighed loudly, pausing whatever he was watching and pushing the laptop away. “What do you want, Jisung?”

 “Pay attention to me,” Jisung said, pouting.

 Despite himself, Seungmin laughed. “I was watching a lecture, but thanks for interrupting.”

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “Is your lecture more important than me?”

 “Yes,” Seungmin said bluntly.

 “Rude,” Jisung scoffed, not really offended. He pulled the other boy’s laptop towards him, opening another tab and typing something in with a devilish grin. “Watch a movie with me.”

 “Jisung, I really need to–”

 “Please, Seungminnie,” he said. “We haven’t spent time together in forever and...” Jisung trailed off, not able to say the real reason. _...And I talked to Jeongin-ah today and it made me really happy that you have us as family._ Jisung knew Seungmin wasn’t on the best terms with his own parents–especially since he went to the farthest college from them possible, and joined a gang, and he also knew that the Strays were all he had, something that all of them could relate to.  
 When Seungmin just sighed again, Jisung silently cheered, knowing that he’d won, pulling up a random movie on the laptop and hitting play. He squirmed his way under the blankets, easily cuddling up to Seungmin, who groaned dramatically, but still allowed him to do it.

 Halfway through the movie, Seungmin was falling asleep, and Jisung chuckled a little bit, turning it off. “You work too hard,” he told the boy, ruffling his hair affectionately.

 “Do not,” Seungmin muttered, eyes slipping closed again.  
   
 “Go to sleep,” Jisung said softly, climbing out of the younger’s bed to turn off the light and leave, but he stopped at the door. “Hey, Seungminnie?”

 Seungmin hummed in response.

 “I’m really happy you’re here, that you’re a member of the Strays, a part of the family. I love you a lot, you know?”

 “Gay,” Seungmin mumbled back, causing Jisung to laugh, but he was smiling. “Love you too, Sungie.”

 Jisung flicked the light off and shut the door quietly when he left, feeling a little lighter than when he went in.

—  
   
 A day later, Jisung woke up to the sound of his phone ringing on the nightstand next to him. He groaned, the noise seeming to pound on his head as he blindly groped for the phone. It was still dark, either too late or too early to be awake. When his phone stopped ringing, he relaxed, briefly wondering if it was a dream, his eyes drifting shut slowly. Right before he could fall asleep again, the ringing started all over again.

 “What the hell?” he muttered groggily, reaching for his phone yet again.

 His hands finally closed around his phone, and he brought it towards his face, wincing at the brightness of the screen. It was an unknown number calling, and Jisung had half a mind not to answer when he checked the time–four in the morning.

 Taking a steadying breath and rubbing his eyes, he slid to accept the call. “Hello?” he murmured, his voice slurred with sleep.  
   
 “J-Jisung,” the voice on the other line said. Through his drowsiness, Jisung recognized that the voice was hurried, panicked.

 Jisung sat up in bed, confusion and fear replacing the exhaustion. “Who is this?” he whispered. He was suddenly aware of how quiet it was in the house, his voice seeming to echo around his own room in the stillness of the night.

 “F-fuck,” the voice cursed, and Jisung knew he recognized it. “It’s Minho.”

 Jisung’s heart stopped, then started pounding faster than it was previously. His stomach flipped, but not in a good way, he felt sick. “Minho? What’s going on?” he questioned, trying to keep his voice as gentle and calm as possible, despite how his hands had started shaking.

 “I’m, uh,” there was a pause where all Jisung could hear was heavy, staggered breathing, “I’m okay, but I–I really need you to do something, please,” he said.

 Jisung threw his bedsheets to the side, standing up and running around his room to find proper clothes. “Minho? You’re not okay, where are you?” he asked desperately.

 “No, that d-doesn’t matter. I need you to go to the address I text you, okay?”

 “Minho, what the hell?” Jisung shouted, before he remembered he wanted to keep his voice down for fear of waking up the others in the household. “No, where are you?”

 “When you get to the address, you’re going to find Jeongin,” Minho rasped.  
   
 Jisung’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He knew tears were running down his cheeks as he pulled on a pair of shoes. “Minho, what? What’s going on? Where are you?”

 “It doesn’t matter, Jisung,” Minho snapped, but he was cut off by a bout of coughing, and Jisung clenched his fists, the terror in him steadily climbing. “Don’t go alone, and take him somewhere else. I–I don’t care where but get him out. And hurry.”

 Jisung choked on a sob as he opened the door to his room. “Minho, please, what’s happening?”

 “I’m sorry, Jisung. I–I didn’t know who to call, you were the only one I...” he trailed off, and Jisung wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to say it, or wasn’t able to.

 “ _Please_ just tell me where you are,” Jisung cried as he ran down the hallway.

 “Go get Jeongin. Please, Jisung. Please.” There was another long pause, then Minho whispered, “Goodbye,” and hung up. 

 “Fuck,” Jisung cursed. “Fuck,” he repeated more loudly.

 He hurriedly woke up both Chan and Changbin, and explained to them what was going on, hands shaking and tears running down his face. He showed his phone to Chan, trying to focus on calming himself as he gave them the address Minho had texted them. “You’re going to find a boy named Jeongin. He’s a little younger than me, but taller, he has braces and big eyes. Just–take him back here and hurry,” he told them. He tugged his ring off his finger, pushing it into Chan’s hands. “Here, give him this and tell him you know me, okay?” he demanded, already trying to run down the stairs.

 “Wait!” Changbin yelled after him. “Why are we going to get him?”

 “I don’t know, all I know is he’s in danger, please just go! Call me when he’s here and safe,” he said. His mind was running faster the longer he stayed inside, and he didn’t really know what was going on, but he knew that he was on a pretty strict time frame.

 “Wait, Jisung, where are you going?” Chan asked him, following him down the stairs. He eyes were questioning, intense, trying to draw the answer from him.

 Jisung’s heart skipped a beat, and he looked away, but didn’t take the time to come up with anything other than the truth. “I have to go find Minho,” he whispered, then ran out the door, Chan following him with a dark look before Changbin pulled him out of the door too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all: hurt jisung uwu  
> Me, knowing that this was happening in the literal next chapter: oOPS haha
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and tell me what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a really long weekend, but here's the chapter!  
> Also I love day6 so much they own me literally Falling is ruining me and I Loved You but wow I've been in my feelings

 Every minute that passed felt like a lifetime to Jisung. He had no idea where to look for Minho, he could be anywhere, but Jisung knew he had to try. As the minutes passed, he began to feel dread creep up on him, and he ended up running through the streets as quickly and thoroughly as he could manage at three in the morning. He sprinted past the street where they first met, the street where they held the last underground fighting matches, and even the convenience store where he met Jeongin, but he didn’t come back lucky, only finding empty streets and the occasional passerby that shot him weird looks for his desperate movements at such an early hour.

 He came to rest for a moment at the park bench that he met Minho at almost a week ago, leaning forward to put his head in his hands as he tried to think of where he could look next. Further in the city? Farther from the city? Nervously, he ran his fingers through his hair, knowing that even resting was probably taking too much time. He wanted to scream in frustration, but he just pulled out his phone, trying to dial Minho’s number. It rang a couple of times before he got the voicemail, and Jisung almost threw his phone across the park. “Fuck!” he yelled.

 He took a stabilizing breath, standing up from the bench and staring at his phone hoping for some kind of answer. He finally decided to go to the address that Minho had sent him, hoping that maybe he would be around there. Knowing that he lived next to Jeongin, Jisung could only hope that Minho had been on his way home. Luckily, the address was only ten minutes away from where he was. But if he was wrong... Jisung didn’t want to think about the state in which Minho could be if he didn’t find him soon.

 The address took him to a fairly crowded city street, cars whirling past in flashes of lights. The building he was at was a fairly rundown apartment building, with a couple lights still on across the windows. Jisung frowned up at the apartments, hoping that Changbin and Chan are long gone with Jeongin by now.

 He began to look through the streets, tracing alleys, his heart pounding as he forced himself to walk to not seem suspicious.

 When he turned into the next alley, many blocks away from where he started, he came across a slumped figure, crumpled against the wall. Their head was back, and they were eerily still.

 “Minho?” Jisung called, his voice shaking as he got closer to the figure.

 The boy on the ground stirred, eyes opening in confusion as they flickered around, widening when they finally settled on him. “Jisung?” he asked, his voice weak and barely a whisper.

 Jisung’s heart skipped a beat, and he didn’t know if he was relieved that he’d found him, or terrified because he was in awful condition, and that was just from what Jisung could see. His face was covered in blood, and he was holding his side carefully. Jisung hurried to him, kneeling down beside him desperately. He lifted his hands, hovering them over Minho’s cheeks like he wanted to hold him, inspect him, but he didn’t dare touch the other boy, too scared of hurting him. “Minho,” he said, his voice coming out choked with fear. “What happened?”

 Minho’s eyebrows furrowed, staring up at Jisung. They were dark, unfocused, and they almost seemed in awe. “Jisung?” he repeated in disbelief.

 “Fuck, hyung, what the hell happened?” Jisung demanded, trying to remain in his line of sight.

 Minho shook his head, looking down in what almost appeared to be shame. “Fucking Sharks,” he muttered, then his eyes widened, and his head whipped up to look at Jisung again. “No!” he yelled, trying to sit up and weakly shove Jisung away. “You can’t be here, you’re supposed to–” his voice was desperate, and Jisung carefully grabbed at the hand that was pushing at his shoulder, holding it tight. Minho angrily kept trying to pull away, before he winced and gave up. “You’re supposed to be with Jeongin, you said you would get him, I trusted you, fuck you, fuck you,” he muttered. His eyes, for the first time since he’d seen them that night, weren’t dull–shining in fear as he gave him a betrayed look.

 Jisung’s heart broke, but he shook his head desperately, putting a gentle hand on Minho’s cheek to redirect his gaze so that they were making eye contact. “My hyungs went to go get him, but–I had to find you.”

 Minho sighed, and his head rested against the wall behind him as he stopped struggling against Jisung. A single tear went down his cheek. “I should’ve been there for him.”

 “Hey, you did your best. He’s going to be okay, I promise.”

 Minho shook his head. “I wanted you to be there–he knows you and you’re the only one–the _only one_ –I” he cut off, his voice choked.

 Jisung inched closer, placing both of his hands on Minho’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t,” he said, choking up as a few tears ran down his face. He ran his hands through Minho’s hair, ignoring that it was dirty and matted, trying to push it away from his eyes. “Okay, can you get up? I need to take you to the hospital–”

 “No, I’m not going to the hospital. Just, get me to my apartment, I’ll be fine,” Minho muttered.

 Jisung frowned. “Hyung, you really need a doctor–”

 “No,” Minho snapped, pushing away Jisung’s hand. “Either help me to my apartment or leave.” He was already struggling to his feet, his face drawn together in a wince, one hand still held to his side while he used the other one to push himself against the wall for stability.

 He wobbled for a moment when he finally stood, his breathing heavy. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, unsure. “Hyung, I really think that you–”

 Minho’s jaw set in determination, and he pushed himself off the wall. The only thing that stopped him from careening back into the ground, however, when he stumbled, was Jisung’s arms quickly catching his shoulders, holding him steady as Minho tried to breathe normally. “Fuck,” Minho swore, and Jisung could feel his body tense as he held him.

 “Okay,” Jisung breathed out when he thought he could speak. “I’ll take you back to your apartment, but I’m coming in with you.”

 “Like hell you are–”

 “Minho!” Jisung yelled, effectively cutting him off. “You’re in a bad condition. You _should_ be going to the hospital, but if that’s not going to happen then you need to have _someone_ with you, or who knows what will happen.” His voice was stern, and he didn’t wait for Minho to respond before he grabbed his arm and hoisted it over his shoulder so that he was holding some of the other’s weight. “Okay. The Sharks. If that’s where they were heading, will it be safe there?”

 Minho shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re probably long gone by now, whether or not they found Jeongin,” he said darkly, and Jisung felt guilt flutter in his chest.

 “Okay,” Jisung said, his head skimming the street they were about to step out onto for too many people. Luckily, it was mostly quiet, the occasional car going by too fast to see anything other than a friend helping his drunk friend home. “Okay,” Jisung repeated, trying to sort his thoughts. “Okay, so we’ll try your apartment. My house is too far, I don’t think we’d make it there and we can’t call a cab with you bleeding everywhere. And if the Sharks are there, well,” Jisung paused, looking at Minho’s condition. Neither of them could fight like this. “Let’s just hope they aren’t.”

—

 Getting to Minho’s apartment was probably the most painstaking process of Jisung’s life–and he wasn’t the one who was injured. Every other step, Minho would wince in pain, but stubbornly tell Jisung he was fine and didn’t need to rest every time the younger tensed and asked him if they should stop.

 Luckily, the apartment building was silent when they entered, and they got up the elevator and to the correct door, Minho’s breathing becoming even more labored when they finally reached it. Minho’s eyes flickered to the door that must be Jeongin’s–there was no sign of a break in, and the hallway was quiet.

 “Key, hyung?” Jisung prompted softly, his arm still firmly–and carefully–wrapped around the older’s waist.

 Minho nodded towards the floor. “I keep it taped to the bottom of the mat,” he said, stumbling forward to lean against the wall by the door as Jisung fumbled with the key, returning it to its spot as they both pushed into the apartment.

 To Jisung’s immense relief, as he turned on the light by the door, they found the apartment itself to also be quiet and normal. Jisung took a minute to take in the blank walls and small amount of furniture, and he frowned, feeling like it was bare, missing something.

 Minho didn’t wait for him, and began to limp down a hallway that Jisung imagined would lead to the bathroom. Jisung hurried after him, catching him right before he had the chance to shut the door.

 Minho glared at the younger boy, but allowed him inside. Jisung watched as Minho grabbed a washcloth and began scrubbing at the streaks of blood on his face, and Jisung winced as he witnessed the amount of force the older put into the action. “Hyung,” he whispered. “Hyung!” he repeated when Minho ignored him and continued to rub, catching his arm. “You have to be more gentle.  
   
 “Doesn’t matter,” Minho responded, tearing his arm away from Jisung.

 When he lifted his hand to his face again, Jisung’s eyes filled with frustrated tears, and he tore the rag from Minho’s hand. “Well it does to me,” he growled. Minho watched him carefully, surprised, waiting for his next move. Unsure, Jisung gestured to the edge of the bathtub. “Sit.”

 Minho stared at him for a moment before he followed his direction, taking a seat without taking his eyes off him. Kneeling in front of him, Jisung brushed his hair back warily. He worked carefully, taking his time as the crusted blood began to come clean. He avoided Minho’s eyes–which were watching him, dark and deep in thought. They never left his face as Jisung dragged the cloth down his neck gently.

 Jisung frowned as his hand came up to touch at the bruises forming on Minho’s cheek, tracing around a cut on his forehead that he noted would need a bandage. He pulled his hand away silently, then inspected the rest of Minho. His hand was still holding his side, and Jisung narrowed his eyes, leaning forward to tug at the hem of the other’s black shirt. “Off,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

 Minho turned his head away, unmoving.

 “Either it comes off or I pull it up, either way I’m looking at what’s under there,” Jisung told him, his voice dark and impatient.

 Minho still refused to look at him, a stark contrast to the previous watchfullness of his gaze, but he pulled the shirt over his head without a word.

 Jisung gasped when he finally took in Minho’s torso. It was littered in cuts and bruises, but what caught his attention was an ugly blue-black spot the size of his fist circling around a cut that seemed to be deeper than the others, steadily bleeding. Luckily, the bleeding was slow, but when Jisung reached with the towel to clean around it, Minho jolted back, his breathing growing heavier again.

 “I have to clean it, hyung,” he whispered, looking up at Minho.

 “I–Let me just–can I just take a shower?” Minho asked, his voice coming out quiet, stilted.            

 Jisung softened, leaning back to observe him. “Can you stand for that long?” he said, frowning doubtfully.

 “I’ve done this before,” Minho said vaguely. “Just–get me some clean clothes.”

 After a long moment of hesitation, Jisung nodded, leaving Minho to start the shower. He easily found the other’s room and grabbed some clean sweats and a t-shirt for him. He allowed himself to look around for a moment before he left, taking in another set of blank walls and navy blue bed sheets. Jisung sighed, once again feeling how bare and empty the apartment was.

 On his way back to the bathroom, his phone rang, and his heart jumped when he realized it was Chan, quickly answering and pressing the phone to his ear. “Hyung!” he said quickly, then dropped his voice so he didn’t disturb Minho. “Is he–is Jeongin okay? He’s with you, right?”

 “Yes,” Chan said, his voice low and soothing. “He was confused when we showed up but we mentioned both your’s and Minho’s name. At least he had the smarts to be a little wary of us, until we gave him your ring,” he said. “Where are you? Did you find Minho?”

 “Yeah, I’m with him right now,” Jisung said, his eyes settling on the door of the bathroom where some light was shining through. “He’s–not really in good condition. Can you do me a favor and not tell Jeongin that, though? Don’t tell him where I am at all.”

 “That might be kind of hard, Jisung. He’s wondering about you,” Chan said, and Jisung thought he caught a small chuckle. “He has a lot of spirit.”

 “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Jisung responded with a groan. “Right, can you put him on the phone?”  
   
 There was a shuffling of noise, and then Jeongin’s voice came through his phone clearly. “Hey, hyung!” he said cheerily.

“Hi, Jeongin-ah,” Jisung said carefully. “Sorry I’m not there, but my hyungs are pretty cool, too.”

 “Yeah, Chan-hyung is the _leader_ , hyung. That’s so much cooler. Are you with Minho-hyung right now? Your hyungs told me there was a mix up with another gang, that’s why I’m here.”

 Jisung bit his lip, not wanting to worry the younger boy. “Yeah, I’m with Minho,” he confirmed vaguely. “Thanks for being so easygoing with this, Jeongin-ah,” he said instead. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”

 “Easygoing! Dude, this is awesome! Most exciting thing ever. Oh, gotta go Jisung-hyung, the scary short one is glaring. Take care of Minho-hyung!”

 The phone shuffled again, and then Chan’s laughter came over the line. “I don’t know what to do with this kid,” he said quietly.

 “Keep him away from gangs, I think,” Jisung replied, but he was laughing, too. “There was no trouble getting him out? No sign of the Sharks?”

 “That’s the thing,” Chan said slowly. “No sign of them when we got there, no sign of them when we left.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “And no sign of them now,” he added cautiously. “You think they were just psyching Minho out?”  
   
 “I think it’s very likely,” Chan confirmed. “Okay, I have to go, Sungie. This kid is a handful and I think Changbin might kill him.”

 Jisung laughed as the phone went silent, and walked to the bathroom, putting the clean clothes on the counter before he leaved to wait outside.

 When the water was turned off, and he didn’t hear anything from Minho, he carefully asked, “Are you dressed?”

 There was a bitter laugh, then a dry reply. “Does it matter?”

 Jisung slid into the bathroom, not bothering to respond. Minho was looking in the mirror, wearing sweats but not the shirt as he poked at the cut on his side, which hadn’t stopped bleeding. Jisung sighed at him. “Where do you keep the bandages?” he asked.

 Minho rolled his eyes, pointing at the cabinet next to the mirror, then sat down on the side of the tub again. He watched Jisung as he ruffled through the supplies, picking out two bandages and an ointment. The shower seemed to have given Minho some more energy, because when Jisung approached, he leaned back a little, smirking.

 Jisung pointedly ignored him, pushing his wet bangs back to dab at the cut on his forehead. It didn’t take long, and he found himself working downwards, cleaning some cuts, bandaging a couple, until he made it to the one on his side. When his fingers brushed over the big bruise, Minho’s gasped. “Fuck, what did they _do_ ,” he mumbled. It wasn’t really a question, so Minho didn’t answer as he began to work on it.

 “Chan-hyung called,” Jisung said casually, trying his best to keep Minho calm and still. Nevertheless, he tensed beneath him, and Jisung frowned, placing a hand on his stomach to steady him, which only caused Minho to tense further, his breath catching. Jisung raised an eyebrow at him before continuing his administrations on the cut. “Jeongin is safe with Chan and Changbin. And having the time of his life, apparently.”

 Minho visibly relaxed, and Jisung looked at him out of the corner of his eye, securing the bandage over his side and standing up. “Chan thinks it was a fake out,” he said. “I doubt they were ever here, and I doubt they’re going to come.”

 Minho nodded. “As long as Jeongin-ah’s safe,” he said.

 Frustration boiled up in Jisung, watching Minho slide his shirt back over his head. “What about you? You weren’t safe! Did the Sharks do this to you, too?” he demanded.

 “It doesn’t matter,” Minho answered, walking past him and into his bedroom.

 Jisung followed him angrily. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” he yelled.  
   
 Minho shrugged, standing near his bed. “You should go,” he said, his voice dull.

 The anger melted away, quickly replaced by hopelessness and disappointment. “Really? That’s it?” he said, his voice shaking. “I fucking–you call me in the middle of the night, I find you _half dead_ , I–after all this, you _still_ –fuck you, I was _scared_ , hyung,” Jisung finished, his voice steadily raising. He stubbornly wiped tears from his eyes, wishing he cried less when he was emotional, wishing he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. (Wishing he could be made of stone, like Minho.) “And all you have to say,” Jisung added, throwing his hands up, “Is ‘you should go’. Well fuck you, cause I’m staying.” With that, he stubbornly sat on the floor, glaring at Minho defiantly.

 Minho blinked, then turned his head away, softening. But he didn’t say anything as he flicked the light off, then crawled into his bed, back facing Jisung.

 Five minutes of silence went by where Jisung sat, criss-crossed, on the floor, wondering if he really _should_ just leave, until finally Minho muttered, almost inaudibly, “Bed’s more comfortable, Jisung.”

 “What?” Jisung asked in disbelief.

 Minho didn’t respond, just shifted over, and Jisung warily stood, walking around the bed. Even in the dark, he knew Minho’s eyes were trained on him as he got to the other side, pulling up the sheet and slipping under, making sure to keep a good amount of space between the two of them.

 Jisung’s heart pounded traitorously, and he wanted to move closer–trace where he knew the cuts and bruises on his face would be, hold him, tell him it would be okay, be _told_ it would be okay. Jisung clenched his fists, knowing that Minho was looking at his form in the darkness–he could feel the other’s eyes on him, searing him with heat even when he couldn’t see it–and he turned over, back facing Minho.

 He heard a sigh.     
   
 After about fifteen minutes, he thought Minho had fallen asleep, but the other boy whispered “Jisung?”, and Jisung blinked into the darkness, a little surprised.

 “Yeah?”

 “It was the Sharks who hurt your friend,” he said, his voice trembling–barely there, but Jisung caught it.

 Jisung tensed. “And you?”

 There was a long, drawn out silence. “And me.”

 An hour later, when Minho must have thought Jisung had finally fallen asleep, Jisung felt the other boy shift closer, so that he could barely feel the other boy against his back, a warm breath tickling his neck. Jisung had to fight to keep himself still, like he was asleep. “Thank you, Jisungie,” he whispered, and Jisung felt a light pressure against the back of his neck, warm, fleeting, before Minho was moving away again.

 He let the feeling of the other being close to him, though so brief, consume him, followed swiftly by guilt. Minho was hurt and it was _Jisung’s_ fault. Everything just kept going wrong, and he didn’t know what to do–how he could ever make it better.

 By the time he finally did fall asleep, the sun was steadily rising outside the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to edit this and drag out the part where Jisung is looking for Minho but I'm really exhausted, so I'm sorry if this isn't all that great.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the comeback trailers and announcements, here's my favorite (and longest) chapter so far!! Hope you enjoy.

“Lee Minho!”

 Jisung groaned at the noise waking him up, and he blinked his eyes open groggily. It took him a minute to realize where he was, staring at the wall across from him in confusion. By the light outside, he guessed it was late afternoon–they must have slept all morning. He rolled over, finding the other side of the bed empty. The voice continued, followed by a knocking on the door, and Jisung stared up at the ceiling, listening as the door opened.

 “Hyunjin-ah,” Jisung recognized Minho’s voice easily, sounding calm and collected, despite how much pain Jisung knew the older must be in due to his injuries.

 “Don’t ‘Hyunjin-ah’ me,” the other voice said, becoming clearer as he was no longer yelling through a door. “Ever heard of a phone, hyung?” he was angry, but deeper than that, Jisung could trace the concern in his words. “I’ve called you at least ten times! Why the hell did Jeongin-ah text me in the middle of the night saying that you were _missing_ and he was getting picked up by some gang members?”

 “I–” Minho didn’t have time to defend himself before he was cut off.

 “I don’t want excuses, I’m so– _ugh_. You know I don’t–Minho?” The guy–Hyunjin–stopped talking suddenly, and Jisung figured that this was as good of a time as ever to reveal himself.

 There’s no subtle way to appear from someone’s bedroom in the morning, as Jisung was quickly realizing, so he stepped cautiously out of the room down the hallway, peeking around the corner at Minho. The latter was grimacing as he held his side in, and concern made him turn the corner to face the two boys. “You should change your bandage, hyung,” he said casually, as if it was perfectly normal for him to be there.

 Minho’s head shot up, glaring at him, at the same time that Hyunjin’s mouth dropped, turning to blink slowly at Minho. “I didn’t realize you had company.”  
   
 Minho groaned and sat down on his couch, running a hand through his hair. “He’s not company,” he said bluntly.

 Jisung rolled his eyes, stepping forward to introduce himself to Hyunjin, who was staring suspiciously at Jisung. “Han Jisung,” he said, plastering on a smile. “I saved his ass.”

 Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at him, glancing back and forth between Jisung and Minho carefully. “Hwang Hyunjin,” he said slowly. “I’ve saved his ass since high school.”

 Jisung’s eyes widened, taking in Hyunjin for the first time. His first thought was that he was really pretty. He was dressed nicely, a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a loose t-shirt haphazardly tucked into the waistband. He had wide, honest eyes, and Jisung was kind of relieved to realize that this boy had never seen a day of life in a gang.

 “As glad as I am that you guys have met, I need both of you to go,” Minho said hurriedly, eyes narrowing on Jisung specifically.

 Jisung’s mouth dropped. “No way,” he said defiantly. “You have to come with me to talk to Chan-hyung. You know more about what happened than anyone else now, and I’m going to get revenge for Seungmin if it’s the last thing I do.”

 Minho’s eyes darkened. “If I go with you, Jeongin will be there, right?”

 Jisung nodded enthusiastically.

 “Fine. I’ll go, talk, but then I am _leaving_ ,” Minho growled out.

 Hyunjin threw his hands up, frustrated. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” he demanded, scowling.

 “Nothing,” Minho said.

 Jisung raised an eyebrow, then grinned at Hyunjin. “Yeah, nothing. Except Minho got the shit beaten out of him by a gang of assholes, and Jeongin is with my gang hyungs to remain safe.”

 Hyunjin sat down on the couch and let out a deep breath. He was quiet for a long moment, obviously taking in the information Jisung just threw at him, then he rounded on Minho, “What the fuck, Minho? You know I’ve always tried to support you and your fighting habits–but this? Getting mixed up in gangs? I thought you were done with that, ever since–”

 Minho shot him a warning glare at the same time Jisung asked, “What?”

 “ _Nothing_ ,” Minho emphasized, irritated. He pointed to Jisung, “Let’s go.”

 “I’m coming with,” Hyunjin told them, standing up confidently.

 It wasn’t a request, but Minho and Jisung both snapped, “No!” at the same time. Hyunjin crossed his arms. “Like hell,” he said bluntly. “This involves two of my friends, I don’t even know where Jeongin _is_ right now, I’m coming whether you like it or not, because I want to know what’s going on.”

 Minho scowled at Jisung. “This is your fault,” he said, before he walked into his room to get ready, leaving Jisung to smile awkwardly at Hyunjin, whose jaw was set in determination, a distrustful glimmer in the eye he kept glued on Jisung. 

—

 Jisung stepped up to the door of the member’s shared house, suddenly nervous. He wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction he would get by bringing two people to the house, especially with the stress they’ve all been under lately, and Seungmin still bedridden. And especially with the wariness Woojin had shown towards Minho the other day–he knew the fighter was a sensitive subject among the members, with the way they disagreed on his possible interactions with them, and bringing him here could only worsen that. Before he opened the door, he turned to Hyunjin and Minho, waiting on the lower steps. Minho seemed impatient, an expectant look on his face, while Hyunjin was shifting on his feet, obviously uncomfortable, yet determined. “Okay, before we go in, please keep in mind that everything is kind of... a sensitive topic right now,” he glared pointedly at Minho, who met his gaze cooly. “So, just be calm, yeah?”

  _This is going to go to hell_ , he thought as he turned the knob on the door, a little relieved–and concerned, based on recent events–to find it unlocked. He’d forgotten his keys in his hurry to leave last night, and the last thing he needed to do was _knock_ and wait for someone to answer, prolonging his anxieties.  
   
 He led the way into the kitchen, where they found everyone gathered at the table, tense. Woojin was arguing quietly with Chan at the head of the table, and other than that the group was quiet–even Jeongin, who was staring at his hands, glancing up at the other boys every so often like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. Seungmin was leaning back in his chair, his leg elevated on another chair, pretending to be inspecting something on his laptop, but Jisung could tell he was more intent on trying to hear Chan and Woojin. At the opposite end of the table sat Changbin and Felix, the latter of which was shifting in his seat, and running his hands through his hair while Changbin shot him worried glances.

 Jisung laughed, breaking the hushed silence, and even Chan and Woojin’s heated whispering. “Well,” he said, “Gang’s all here.”

 Minho scowled at him.

 “What?” he said incredulously. “It’s an expression!”

 Jeongin shot up from the table, rushing forward with a bright smile as he quickly embraced Hyunjin, then stopped when he got to Minho, his grin dropping instantly. “Hyung, your face, what happened?” he said, his voice shaking. Jisung felt his heart break a little at the look of total fear and desperation on the younger boy’s face.

 Minho shook his head. “It looks worse than it is,” he said.

 When Jeongin still looked unsure, Minho smiled, quickly pulling him into a hug, then he playfully scowled at him. “What did I tell you about mixing with gang members the other day?”

 Jeongin grinned again. “I didn’t have much of a choice, hyung.”

 Minho sighed softly and ruffled the boy’s hair. “No, I guess you didn’t,” he said, glancing at the members gathered around the kitchen table.

 Jeongin turned to Hyunjin. “Hyung, what are you doing here? You’re not–”

 Hyunjin scoffed, lightly hitting the younger boy over the head. “I was worried about you, you little shit. You’re, like, twelve. You shouldn’t be here,” he scolded, then glanced over the stares of the members in the room. “Uh, no offense?”

 It was silent for a long moment, and Jisung received many glares. He laughed nervously. The only person who didn’t look pissed, at least, was Chan, who was flitting back and forth between looking at Hyunjin, then Minho, like he was trying to figure something out. “So, uh, Minho has some information about the Sharks,” he said dumbly. When no one else said anything, he rubbed the back of his neck. “And, uh, Hyunjin wanted to make sure Jeongin was okay, so–”

 Changbin dragged a hand down his face, sighing.

 Woojin was the first to speak up, walking over to Minho like he was going to size him up. “So what do you know?” he demanded, glaring.

 Minho didn’t even blink, he just crossed his arms. “Why the hell should I trust all of you with this? How am I supposed to know that you won’t kill us or some shit when you have what you need?”

 Jisung spluttered. “You really think that low of us?” he said, frustration bubbling up in his stomach. “If you’re going to be difficult, then why the hell did you come? Were you even going to _tell_ us originally or were you just gonna–” he found himself rambling, but he didn’t care, the stress of the last twelve hours finally breaking until he was yelling, throwing his arms up. “You might as well just _leave_ if you’re going to be completely _useless_ –”

 Minho’s eyes narrowed, and he turned away. “I was going to tell _you_ ,” he clarified. “Asshole.”

 Jisung huffed, turning the opposite direction from where Minho just turned like they were two children. “I would’ve just told them anyways. This is pointless.”

 After a tense moment where the others in the room just watched them, Minho finally sighed, walking towards the table and taking the empty space where Jeongin had been sitting. He nodded towards Seungmin briefly. “Your leg–it was a car accident, right?”

 Seungmin lowered the screen of his laptop, shooting a quick glance at Chan before he nodded.

 Minho nodded, too, like he was thinking, then directed himself at Chan. “It was the Sharks,” he said simply. Then he shook his head. “But I don’t have any evidence for you. I only know it was them–not all of their members are as loyal as they’d like to think. It was easy to find out, really, you just have to know the right people.”

 Woojin snorted. “This is why we can’t trust him,” he said, pointing at him. “Chan, come on. He has no gang ties so he _can_ know anyone–talk to anyone–who’s to say _he’s_ not giving us the false information? Plus, isn’t he against gangs? It would be easy for him to pit us against each other.”

 Chan stared at Minho for a long moment, a gaze that Minho easily held. Jisung chose this moment to pipe up, saying, “I trust it, I mean the Sharks–”

 “You have no room to talk, Jisung. Of _course_ you trust him, you’re the one who went to him in the first place– _without telling anyone_. So don’t think you’re off the hook for that,” Changbin growled, rolling his eyes.

 Jisung opened his mouth to say something else, angry, but also knowing that what Changbin said held some truth, but Changbin cut him off. “So, in other words, shut up.”

 “Can everyone just calm down for a minute, I’m thinking,” Chan said, furrowing his eyebrows.

 Jisung bit his lip, trying to read what Chan was thinking. On the one hand, he understood the hesitation to trust anything Minho said, even Jisung had his doubts. He also knew that he would probably get an earful from Chan later about going on his own without his permission, especially when he brought in an outsider. On the other hand, this could be the assent that the Sharks really are singling them out, as well as a warning that they won’t stop.

 “There’s something else,” Minho said, his voice coming slow like he wasn’t really expecting the words to leave him. “They’re planning an attack. I don’t know where, or when. Just that they are. They’re out for Stray blood.” With the last sentence, Minho’s eyes flickered to Jisung for the shortest of seconds, then down at the table. “That’s all I know,” he said quietly.

 Chan sighed, shaking his head. “I believe you. Not because I trust you, but because I have to.”

 Minho nodded.

 “Besides, this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve singled us out. They were already crossing a serious line when they beat up Jisung,” he said carefully. “And no matter what, Minho can’t be working with the Sharks–they’re the ones who attacked you last night, right?”

 Minho grit his teeth, but nodded.

 “Right,” Chan said. “Right.”

 Seungmin tried to lean forward, balancing his leg. “This is all because of some rogue member of the Sharks? So some dumb kid left the gang, why the fuck do they care enough to hit me with a car?” he spat. “We don’t _have_ him.” He crossed his arms, glaring at his leg.

 Jisung flinched at the harsh tone. Usually Seungmin–along with Felix–were the positive energies in the gang, always smiling and joking (even if Seungmin could be absolutely ruthless when he wanted to be). Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chan run a hand through his hair.

 Minho raised an eyebrow, gaze settling on every member individually. “It’s not some ‘kid’,” he said. When no one said anything, he blinked at them in surprise. “You guys really don’t know?”

 Chan winced, then closed his eyes as if he was waiting for a storm. But he didn’t say anything to stop Minho from continuing.

 “I don’t know what it is, but this ‘kid’ has some serious shit on the Sharks apparently. Saw something he shouldn’t have, got scared, and ran.” He shook his head. “If he’s smart, he’s in another country right now, the Sharks are fucking ruthless with runaways–especially if they know something of that much importance.”

 “Fuck,” Jisung cursed.

 Changbin stood up angrily. “So, what? We just sit around here while they fucking start picking us off one by one until they finally find out we don’t have the member? That’s bullshit!”

 Chan shook his head. “No one’s just sitting around–”

 Chanbin laughed, but it held no humor. “Right. Well they already hurt two of us–and Minho–so it seems pretty much like we are.”

 “I–”

 “No, hyung.”

 Everyone turned to look at the new voice, surprised. Jisung had almost forgotten that Felix was here, the boy had been so quiet. When Jisung looked at him, he was staring intently at his hands, but he looked up to blink at them, and Jisung noticed that his eyes were filled with tears. He only looked at Chan. He smiled sadly. “It’s okay, hyung,” he said. Despite the tears, his voice was steady. “I can’t–I can’t lie anymore. No more excuses, people keep getting hurt because of me. It’s not right.”

 Jisung froze. He couldn’t be implying what he thought?

 Chan closed his eyes after Felix spoke, the disappointment, and sadness, clear on his face. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded his head to Felix. “Go ahead, then,” he said. Next to him, Woojin winced and sat down, running a hand through his hair.

 Felix took a deep breath, then stood up. His smile was weak, but it was also unwavering. There wasn’t a single eye in the room that wasn’t trained on him–even Hyunjin and Jeongin, who had been tentatively following the conversation. “I–I should’ve never–” he took another deep breath, evidently trying to stable himself. “I need to tell you guys something. I–”

 “Please don’t,” Changbin said darkly. His head was turned away from Felix, refusing to look at the boy. From where Jisung was standing, he could see tears in his eyes, too. “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

 “I can’t, hyung,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “My–my name is–or was–Yongbok. I was a member of the Sharks.”  
          
 Everything seemed to freeze, and Jisung whipped around to glare at Chan, but the leader was still pointedly not looking at his members. It took Jisung a minute to recognize it, but the disappointment on his face wasn’t from the admission, but rather disappointment in himself. Anger bubbled up, and Jisung felt the urge to scream. “Oh, so we’re all just keeping secrets, now?” he hissed, feeling betrayed. He knew that there was something he wasn’t being told, but this? Felix was his _friend_ , Chan his leader. But suddenly, it all made sense. Why Chan hadn’t seemed all that surprised at the missing member, why Woojin had stormed into the house a few days ago–he must have figured it out.

 Changbin growled, pointing to Minho. “You have _no room_ to talk, Jisung.”

 “I’m not the fucking leader! Minho’s not a member!” Jisung shouted back, frustrated tears filling his eyes. “It’s been _months_ , I–” Suddenly, something dawned on Jisung, and he felt sick. He turned to Chan. “Wait,” he said, seething. “This is why you wanted Minho to join us, isn’t it?”  
   
 Chan’s eyes widened. “Jisungie–”

 “No!” he shouted. “You knew how pissed the Sharks would be if he joined us, they’ve wanted him on their side for years! It had _nothing_ to do with connections or having something over them, did it?”

 “Jisungie, _please_ –”

 “You just wanted him to take the heat off of Felix, yeah?” Jisung spat. “This whole time you wanted me to get Minho to join us. That would’ve just put him in danger!”

 Minho stood up abruptly. “You’ve been trying to get me to join this whole time?”

 Jisung rolled his eyes, still angry. “Don’t act surprised, hyung.”

 Minho’s jaw tensed, and he glared around the room. “I’m leaving.”

 He began to walk towards the door, but he stumbled, and Jisung hurried forward, anger momentarily forgotten. He caught Minho quickly, furrowing his eyebrows at him in worry. “Hyung?”

 “Fuck off,” Minho groaned through clenched teeth.

 Jeongin let out a choked sound, and from the corner of his eye, Jisung saw Hyunjin pull him in for a hug. “Hyung,” Jisung tried again, ignoring the bitter comment. “Is it...” he trailed off, tentatively lifting Minho’s shirt to find that the wound in his side from the previous night was bleeding through the bandage, and had been for a while. Jisung froze, his heart picking up in fear upon looking at the wound. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded, panic seeping into his voice.

 Minho winced. “There were more pressing matters.”

 Jisung turned around desperately, eyes landing on Chan. “I–he’s bleeding, hyung–what–”

 Chan was on his feet in an instant, the earlier conversation forgotten, and Jisung, bitterly, realized he looked like a leader again. “Get him on the couch, Jisung.”

 Jisung, still panicking, didn’t move until Chan growled out, “Now!”  
   
 “Okay, Minho we have to... go over here,” he said dumbly, directing him towards the couch in the living room.

 Minho looked like he was going to argue, but then he nodded, growing paler by the second. Chan turned to Changbin once Minho was on his back on the couch. “You’re the best with a needle,” Chan stated.

 Changbin’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Minho. “No. No fucking way. I don’t owe him anything.”

 “Damn it!” Chan yelled. “I know we’re all mad right now and we all have trust issues, but we’re not going to just let him _die_.”

 Changbin stared at Chan, and for a terrifying moment, Jisung thought he was going to refuse again, but he turned and walked towards the bathroom, presumably to get the medical kit they kept there.

 Relieved, Jisung kneeled next to Minho on the couch. Now that he was paying attention, he saw this his forehead was glistening with sweat, and his skin was a sickly color. He must’ve been like this for a while. Carefully, Jisung lifted his shirt to expose the wound, steadily seeping through the bandage. “How long has it been bleeding?”  
   
 “Doesn’t matter, Jisung.”

 Jisung narrowed his eyes, not having it. “Since last night?”

 Minho closed his eyes, whether it was against the pain or so he didn’t have to look at him, Jisung didn’t know. “Fuck off, Jisung,” he growled out.

 Jisung tried to ignore how that comment hurt him, knowing that Minho was in pain and wasn’t entirely fond of being vulnerable around others. Jisung quickly shook off his feelings as Changbin came in, followed by Chan. Hyunjin stood hesitantly at the entrance to the living room, looking indecisive. From the kitchen, Jisung could hear Jeongin trying not to cry. Hyunjin made eye contact with Jisung. “You take care of him,” he ordered. Jisung nodded silently, a gesture that was returned by Hyunjin before he left. Jisung heard the crying muffle.

 Chan placed a pill and glass of water in Jisung’s hands, only glancing at Minho for a second. “Give him this, it’s the strongest pain pill we have.”

 Jisung’s raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure, hyung?” he asked, staring at the pill dubiously, then back at Minho, who’s jaw was clenched tight, sweat beading at the top of his forehead.  
   
 Chan nodded solemnly. “He’s going to need it.”

 As Changbin began to sterilize a needle, Jisung ran a hand through Minho’s hair, pushing the sweaty bangs off his forehead. “Hyunjin went to comfort Jeongin,” he told him, trying to keep his voice calm, relaxing.

 “Good,” Minho said.

 “Hyung, here,” he said carefully, handing the older the pill. “It’s going to help.”

 Minho looked at it for a long moment, and Jisung tensed, seeing the lack of trust in the older’s eyes. When he met Jisung’s pleading gaze, he nodded, taking the pill without question. Jisung allowed himself to feel a little relief.

 “I have to clean it,” Changbin said bluntly, staring down at the wound. “It’s ugly.”

 “Yeah, sure, do whatever,” Minho mumbled. His voice only wavered briefly, but Jisung caught it, followed by the sharp intake of breath and grunt of pain that followed Changbin pouring cleaning alcohol over the wound, then pressing a clean cloth to it. “Shit,” Minho cursed.

 “Are you okay?” Jisung asked, still running his hands through his hair, his fingers trailing down his neck then back up in hopes to somewhat distract him.

 “ ‘m fine,” Minho said. “Felt great.”

 Changbin laughed. “If you liked that, you’re going to love this.”

 Jisung couldn’t look at Changbin put the needle through Minho’s skin, and he winced when Minho let out a yell of pain. Jisung’s heart dropped at the noise, and he grasped one of Minho’s hands in his own. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’ll be over soon. It’s okay,” he repeated. When he was out of words, he hummed softly, one hand in Minho’s hair, the other holding his hand tighter than anything, anchoring him.

 When Changbin was finally done, and Minho’s breathing returned to normal, he breathed a “thank you”.

 Changbin looked at him for a long time before his eyes shifted to the way Jisung was holding his hand. “I didn’t do it for you,” he said. “I did it for Jisung.” He packed up the medical supplies and left, glaring pointedly at Chan as he did.

 Changbin’s words were unsettling to Jisung, but he ignored them, leaning closer to Minho. “Hey,” he said.

 Minho’s eyes settled on him, and he laughed. “I kind of hate you,” he said, his words slurred with pain and probably exhaustion. Jisung could tell the pain pill was beginning to work, making him loose-lipped and a little hazy.

 Jisung frowned. “Why’s that?”

 Minho didn’t answer. “I should’ve stayed out of it, like I told myself I was going to do when I came here. Han Jisung, you are impossible.”

 “You’re not making any sense, hyung,” Jisung said, eyebrows furrowed.

 Minho closed his eyes, and Jisung thought he’d fallen asleep, until he murmured, “I like it when you run your hands through my hair.”

 Jisung’s hand froze in shock, but then continued when Minho made an unhappy sound. “You’re really not making any sense now,” he whispered.  
    
 “Your fault,” was the quiet response.

 “Always is,” Jisung responded softly. “Hyung, do you think you can walk?”

 Minho groaned, opening his eyes slowly. “I just got stitches and you want me to _walk_?”

 Jisung smiled sheepishly. “You can’t stay on the couch, it’s the worst thing in the world, you’ll wake up in worse condition than you started in.”

 “Then where am I supposed to go?”

 “I was thinking my bed,” Jisung said, then caught himself, hearing the implications of his sentence.

 Minho laughed, then winced. “Trying to take advantage of an injured man? Really, Jisungie?”

 Jisung’s heart picked up at the nickname and he rolled his eyes. “No, I just thought that would be the best place but if you want to sleep on this _rock_ then be my guest,” he said haughtily.

 “No,” Minho said, sitting up slowly. “Fuck, that hurts.”

 “I think I’d be more worried if it didn’t hurt,” Jisung pointed out, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

 After some maneuvering, and Jisung almost literally carrying Minho up the stairs, Jisung got him settled into his bed. Jisung was just about to leave when Minho grabbed his wrist. Jisung stopped, staring at where they were connected, then into Minho’s eyes. The latter blinked, then whispered, “Where are you going?” Through the haze of the medicine and the exhaustion, Minho couldn’t seem to focus on Jisung’s face, so he leaned closer.

 “I have to go talk to my hyungs some more,” he replied, gently brushing Minho’s cheek, wondering if that was too far.

 “I have something really important to tell you, though,” Minho said, his words slurring.

 Jisung smiled fondly, brushing the other boy’s hair back. “Can it wait for when you wake up?”

 “No!” Minho said, tensing, panicked. “I won’t tell you then.”

 Jisung laughed, glad that the medicine from earlier was working, even if Minho wasn’t making any sense. “Okay, tell me, baby,” he said, his voice soft, knowing that Minho would kill him for the nickname if he was even remotely aware right now.

 Minho just smiled, tightening his hold on Jisung’s hand like he thought the latter was still going to leave. “The café,” he said, like it would answer all of his questions. Jisung narrowed his eyes, humming his confusion. “The _café_ ,” Minho repeated, getting frustrated. “Park Rose.”

 Jisung froze. “I never told you–”

 Minho shook his head. “Shh, listen,” he told him. “That’s the café. The one where Chan found you. The owner is–was?–a really close family friend,” he giggled here, then continued on seriously, “But she couldn’t afford to give out food.”

 Jisung was confused. “Then why–”

 “I ate there all the time, behind the counter so no one would bother me because they used to do that. It was a little after I moved here,” another giggle, “And then one day this _tiny_ squirrel-looking kid walked in. Like, he was so skinny, you have no idea. I used to pay for his meals and the lady who owns it would always make him the best food she could.”

 “Hyung, why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice shaking.

 Minho frowned. “Isn’t it obvious? You asked me why I saved you in that alley, I’m telling you. You reminded me of that kid. And then–” he laughed “–and then you _were_ that kid. When you stopped showing up to the café two years ago I was worried. I was _worried_ , Han Jisung. Dumb kid.”

 Jisung wondered how he never even realized. It had taken him a long time to go back to the café after he joined the gang, but when he finally did, Nayeon and her grandmother had greeted him like an old friend. He’d been back many times since, such as his trip the other day, but he can’t remember ever having seen Minho. As much as he wanted to grill Minho about this, he knew he needed to rest. As it was, the latter’s eyes were slipping closed, his hand still wrapped tightly around Jisung’s.

 “Rest, Minho,” he said, standing up and removing his hand.

 Minho’s eyes opened again, and he gave Jisung a sleepy look that melted his heart. He knew he was only out of it because of the pain medicine, but Jisung couldn’t help how cute the usually intimidating boy looked. “You’ll come back, right?” Minho murmured.

 “Of course,” Jisung said. “It’s my bed.”

 “Good,” Minho said, then fell asleep.

—

 When he walked down the stairs again, it was to arguing. Hyunjin and Jeongin seemed to be listening, but not speaking. Jeongin’s face was red and still had tear stains, which he was wiping, and Hyunjin was holding him tightly. Ignoring everyone else, he walked directly up to them. “He’s okay, Jeongin-ah,” he said softly, sparing a glance at Hyunjin, too. The latter didn’t smile, but he nodded, and mouthed ‘thank you’. “He’s asleep.”

 “Thank you, Jisung-hyung,” Jeongin said, giving him a watery smile.

 Jisung smiled at him one last time before he turned back towards the table. Changbin was yelling, and Chan was trying to speak as calmly as possible, but Jisung could see the way he clenched his fists. Felix was sitting quietly, his head down, and Woojin was watching the argument with a straight face that Jisung, unfortunately, couldn’t read. Seungmin wasn’t present, but Jisung didn’t blame him, with all the yelling.

 “I don’t give a shit about him being a Shark,” Changbin was saying. “I’m pissed because you felt that you didn’t need to tell me! Like, what the fuck, Chan? You and me were the first members of this gang, I knew you back before you were a leader. I respect you! I thought that was mutual.”  
        
 “It is!” Chan said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “But if I’d really come back with this kid and said ‘here, he’s a Shark and they’re going to be on a death hunt for him in about a week’, would you have really just accepted it?”

 “I don’t know!” Changbin yelled, furious.

 Felix flinched.

 Changbin softened at that, then took a deep breath. “I don’t know, but neither do you,” he said. “You didn’t even give me a chance. Jisung didn’t get a chance either. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

 “I’m really sorry, guys,” Felix whispered, glancing up at them. “I really didn’t–I didn’t want to cause this much trouble, I just–”

 “Well you did,” Changbin snapped harshly, and Felix flinched again, a single tear going down his face.  
          
 “Hyung!” Jisung hissed, finally speaking. “This isn’t his fault.” Jisung sighed. “We were all in bad places when Chan found us, yeah? How is this any different?”

 From the corner of his eye, Jisung saw Woojin nod stiffly.

 Changbin took a deep breath. “You’re right,” he muttered. “I’m–I’m not mad at you, Felix,” he said, sitting down at the table and looking at Felix again. “At least, not for the reason you think I am. I just figured–why didn’t _you_ at least tell me?” he asked, his voice cracking on the question.

 Felix’s tears started up all over again, and he hurriedly wiped them away. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m so grateful to Chan-hyung for what he did. I didn’t want anyone to know. For one, it would be easier to find me that way, even though I changed my name and dyed my hair. I couldn’t risk it. Also I knew none of you would accept me if you knew,” he said. He glanced at Changbin, something in his eyes pleading. “I should’ve told you, I know. But you–I was the most scared of losing you.”

 Changbin’s jaw clenched, and he turned away.

 Felix looked down. “I’m sorry again, sorry to everyone. I’ll pack my things.”

 “No!” came the unanimous yell.

 Felix’s head shot up in both surprise and confusion.

 “This doesn’t change shit,” Changbin said, still not looking at him. “You’re still a Stray.”

 “Yeah,” Jisung added, while Woojin nodded, and Chan smiled in relief.

 Woojin stood up from the table, making his hands busy by dusting non-existent dust from his jeans. “It’s late,” he said carefully. “We should all get some sleep, and come back to this tomorrow, yeah?”

 Jeongin finally spoke up, his voice coming out small. “Channie-hyung? Is it alright if we stay, too? I can’t go back to my apartment, and Minho’s still here...”

 Chan nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course. You guys can take the guest room upstairs. Woojin, are you okay with rooming with Seungminnie for the night?” Woojin hummed a confirmation and Chan glanced around, looking at who was left. “Changbin...”

 “No, I’m walking home,” Changbin said stubbornly.

 Chan shook his head abruptly. “No, hell no. It’s late and there could be Sharks out. I’ll take the couch.”

 Changbin spluttered, knowing that left him with only one option–rooming with Felix. But he didn’t say anything, just huffed and headed upstairs without another word.  
        
 “Don’t worry,” Jisung told Felix softly when he saw the dejected look on his face. “He’ll come around.”

 Felix nodded wordlessly, and Jisung wished the rest of them a goodnight, before heading upstairs with Hyunjin and Jeongin to show them the guest bedroom. When they were settled in, he said, “I’m really sorry about all of this. It’s–you guys shouldn’t be caught up in this.”

 “It’s okay,” Jeongin said. “You guys are the only reason I’m safe right now.”

 Jisung shook his head. “I’m also the only reason you were in danger in the first place.”  
   
 Jeongin yawned. “It’s in the past, hyung. Just keep Minho-hyung safe now, okay?”

 Jisung sighed, not entirely sure that was a promise he could keep, but he agreed anyways, smiling at the younger boy as he settled into the bed. Hyunjin walked up to the door, ready to close it behind Jisung, but before he could leave, Hyunjin muttered, “Thank you.”

 Jisung raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

 Hyunjin shrugged. “I don’t like what’s going on here,” he said honestly, obviously choosing his words carefully. “And I don’t want Jeongin to be a part of it, but at least he’s safe. And I’d rather be here with him and Minho-hyung than worrying about them. I guess I’m saying thank you because I trust you.”  
   
 “Why?” Jisung asked, honestly curious.

 Hyunjin shook his head. “Only because Minho-hyung trusts you,” he told him, staring into his eyes intensely, searching as if he could find the reason. He sighed after a moment, then looked the other way. “I don’t know why he does, exactly, but I trust _him_ , so I trust you.”

 With nothing else to say, Jisung bowed his head a little, backing out of the door. “Goodnight.”

 “Goodnight,” Hyunjin echoed, then the door shut.

 The trek to his own room seemed longer than normal, and his feet felt heavy. Even though he’d slept in late, he was exhausted, all of the day’s–and the previous day’s–events piling up quickly.

  He opened the door to his room to find Minho sleeping peacefully, and he smiled softly. It wasn’t often that he saw the older peaceful, calm, and he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked. Jisung’s heart pounded as he climbed in the other side of the bed, face to face with Minho. He had the urge to reach out, trace his fingers over the slope of his face, to hold him. But he simply brushed some of his hair back and combed through it once, trying to ignore the pleased hum that drew from the sleeping boy. With a sigh, Jisung rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. A lot of your theories were right, but we still have a bit to go! I haven't finished this yet so the ending and events come and go and change a lot, but I'm still excited! Since I've been posting faster than I've been able to write (blame school homework), I'll probably make the posting schedule once a week instead of twice a week (or whenever I feel like it).   
> But I hope you enjoyed this! There's a lot going on in this chapter, so I'm sorry if it's a little bit of a mess.   
> Hopefully Minho isn't too out of character for you guys. (I'm kind of hoping exhaustion and pain pills are a good enough reason for Minho to be like this, because I really wanted to write soft!Minho.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I had a pretty crappy week :') but! I don't really want to bore everyone with my rants I just wanted to tell you that all of your comments honestly made my week infinitely better <3

For the second day in a row, Jisung woke up confused. He was sleeping on the opposite side of the bed than usual, closest to the door, and was perilously close to slipping off the edge, despite the arm carefully draped over his waist, and the feeling of a forehead pressed to the back of his neck. He froze, feeling the other person’s breathing against his nape before he remembered who he was sharing his bed with.

 Heart pounding, he reached his hand up, easily coming into contact with the arm around him. He held his breath as his fingers traced the side of Minho’s hand, waiting for the other boy to wake up. When the breathing behind him remained steady, he continued, dragging his fingertips over the other boy’s fingers, playing with them lightly, then back up to his arm. There was a brief exhale behind him, happy, warm, and Jisung felt his heart leap as he stopped his administrations to turn around slowly, carefully, deathly afraid of waking him.

 He came face to face with the sleeping boy, feeling his exhales softly ghost against his lips, and he leaned back to take in his face. He was relaxed, a relief to Jisung, who wondered how much pain he would be in when he awoke, but for now, he seemed peaceful. Jisung reached his hand up to brush his bangs, then trace lightly over his cheekbones, then down to his jaw and over, stopping right before the pads of his fingers could brush Minho’s lips. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows and sighed, putting as much distance between the two of them as he dared without falling off the bed (but Minho’s arm stubbornly stayed right at Jisung’s waist, and Jisung, convincing himself that removing it would take too much movement, left it there).

 After about ten minutes, Minho stirred, and Jisung’s heart skipped a beat as he panicked, then closed his eyes, burying his face into the pillow like he was still asleep, and hadn’t been staring for a solid twenty minutes. He willed his cheeks not to flush, and tried to steady his heartbeat before Minho realized.  
   
 A beat of silence followed, then the arm around him tensed. “Jisung?” he heard Minho murmur, sleep slurring the name. When Jisung didn’t respond, he felt Minho lean in a bit closer. “Jisungie?” he repeated. Again, Jisung kept still. He heard a sigh, then the arm around him slid away slowly, his fingers lingering a beat too long on his waist.

 Jisung felt the weight on the bed shift as Minho moved to the other end, spacing himself from the younger. Jisung took this as the perfect moment to blink his eyes open, catching the older boy staring determinedly at Jisung’s ceiling.

 Jisung yawned loudly, alerting Minho to the fact that he was awake. Jisung didn’t miss the light blush on his cheeks as he sat up, rubbing his eyes dramatically. “Good morning,” he said carefully, trying to figure out what kind of mood Minho would be in.

 He wasn’t quite sure how much the other remembered of the previous night–probably not his admission about the café, and maybe only bits and pieces of the conversation about Felix. Jisung’s best guess that anything after the stitches was completely lost to him.

 “Good morning,” Minho replied roughly.

 Jisung was almost a little disappointed that Minho was back to his usual self, kind of missing the cuteness and honesty of the night before. “How are you feeling?” Jisung asked cautiously.

 Minho chuckled a little, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine.”

 Jisung frowned, leaning forward on one arm so that he was hanging over him, forcing Minho to look in his eyes. “Don’t lie, hyung. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how you feel.”

 Minho stared back quietly, trying to find something in Jisung’s eyes. Jisung leaned closer, trying to pressure the other into telling him, but Minho just made a “hm?” sound before he raised his arms, playfully locking his hands behind Jisung’s neck. He smirked as he pulled Jisung even closer, so that Jisung had to catch himself–an arm on either side of Minho. He leaned up to whisper in Jisung’s ear. “You want to know how I feel?”

 Jisung shivered, but didn’t back down. He met Minho’s eyes evenly. “I don’t understand you, hyung,” he breathed. “One minute, you’re pushing me away, and the next...” he trailed off, looking down.

 Minho’s eyes darkened, and he watched Jisung for a long moment, just breathing. Finally, he reached up to push Jisung’s hair back, placing it behind an ear. Jisung’s breath hitched traitorously. “You’re right,” Minho finally answered. “We should get up.”

 Jisung pushed Minho’s shoulder back down when he tried to sit up, then frowned. “You should keep resting, your side...”

 Minho rolled his eyes. “My side is _fine_ , Jisung,” he told him impatiently. “I should get up and–”

 Stubborn, Jisung pressed Minho back down, then swung a leg over his body. Minho watched with wide eyes as Jisung straddled his thighs, careful not to hurt him. “I _said_. You. Should. Rest.” Jisung repeated, taking care to emphasize the words.

 “And I said that I’m fine,” Minho hissed back, but he didn’t fight much, his hands sneaking forward to balance Jisung by landing on his waist. Again, Jisung tried not to blush, not wanting the older to know how much he effected him.

 Gingerly, Jisung fingered the hem of Minho’s shirt, eyes flickering up as if to ask for permission. Minho didn’t say anything, watching as Jisung lifted the shirt just enough to check the bandage. “You’re not bleeding anymore,” he said helpfully.

 Minho laughed, and Jisung’s heart kicked at the sound, how he felt the vibrations so close to him. “I should hope so,” he said. “Otherwise I would have a serious talk with the little angry guy who did my stitches.”

 Jisung smiled a little, pulling the shirt down. “Changbin-hyung can be a hardass, but he knows his shit,” he told Minho. “But you should change your bandage.”

 Minho raised an eyebrow. “That would mean you’d have to get off me.”

 Fighting his raising heartbeat and reddening cheeks, Jisung cheekily bit back, “Or you can just lay back and let me do it.”

 Minho’s eyes widened, surprised, and for a second, Jisung thought he won with that innuendo, until Minho shrugged, then placed his hands behind his head. “Be my guest.” He gave him a smug look.

 “Really?” Jisung said, narrowing his eyes.

 Minho’s grin widened, and Jisung could tell that he was enjoying the distrust on Jisung’s face. “Yeah,” Minho said, then pushed himself up so that they were face to face, Jisung struggling to balance on his lap without Minho’s hands to steady him. “Here, let me help,” he said, and, without breaking eye contact, he tugged his shirt over his head.

 Jisung’s breath caught in his throat, Minho watching as his eyes dragged down his chest–still littered with bruises but beautiful nonetheless. “I, uh–” he said dumbly, blinking down at him.

 “Eyes up here, Sungie,” Minho purred, reaching out to lightly touch the other boy’s chin, then tug it up so that they made eye contact. “You were doing something?” he prompted. “If I remember correctly,” he whispered, leaning into Jisung, his breath fanning across his neck as his hands returned to tighten possessively around the smaller boy’s waist. “I was going to sit back while you did all the work, no?”

 Jisung flushed, turning his head to the side as he rested his hands–for lack of a better place to put them–on Minho’s shoulders. “Right,” he stuttered out. “I’ll go get a clean bandage.” He scrambled out of his lap then hurried out of the room in search of a new bandage, heart pounding, and trying to ignore the intense gaze that followed him out of the room.

 When he came back, the atmosphere from before–whatever it had been–had diminished, and Minho was laying back again, still shirtless, focused on the ceiling. Jisung fumbled a little, trying to replace the bandaging as quickly, but carefully, as possible. “You’re going to want to keep that dry, so if you shower later...” he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact as he got over their previous encounter.

 It didn’t take long to replace the bandage, but when it was secured, he pulled back for a second. Not even a second later, however, his eyes caught something, and he leaned forward once again, curious. There was a scar, long and pale, in Minho’s right shoulder. Not thinking, Jisung reached out, lightly touching it, tracing its length. “What’s this?” he asked, entranced.

 Minho jolted back like he’d been shocked, not making eye contact. Wordlessly, he slipped his shirt back over his head. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice gruff.

 Jisung bit his lip, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “Hyung? Can I–Can I ask you something?” he was wringing his hands together, suddenly nervous.

 “Maybe,” was the vague reply.

 Jisung shook his head, but decided he still wanted to ask, knowing that it was likely that Minho wouldn’t answer his question. “About the café... why didn’t you tell me when we first met or after that?”

 Minho tensed, avoiding eye contact when Jisung finally looked over. “What about the café?” he asked carefully, hesitant.

 “You told me everything last night, hyung,” Jisung said simply.

 There was a sigh, then Minho nodded. “Right, well,” he began, then stopped, narrowing his eyes in thought. “It made sense not to tell you at the time. It makes sense for you to not know now, even though it’s impossible. I’m–this is a hard world to have ties to anyone in. Hard and dangerous. I didn’t want to get close to you,” he said. “But honestly? It was too hard. It’s still too hard.”

 “What’s too hard?” Jisung asked, tilting his head.

 Minho laughed, the sound sad and bitter. He finally looked into Jisung’s eyes, and, for the first time, Jisung felt that Minho was vulnerable, honest. Scared. “Staying away from you,” he said simply, even though his voice shook.

 Jisung blinked, unsure how to respond to that. He fought with different questions– _why was it hard to stay away? Why did he still_ want _to stay away? Will he disappear again?_ –but he just dumbly said, “Oh.”

 Minho frowned, looking like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words, or wasn’t sure that he could say them. “When this is all over...” he began, but Jisung hurried to cut him off.

 “I don’t want to talk about that,” Jisung said, his voice coming out loud in his desperation to stop Minho from talking. “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t think I’m going to want to hear it, so for now, let’s not talk about it.” He wasn’t even sure what kind of time frame that implied– _‘when this is all over’_. The battle between the Sharks and the Strays? Or just when Minho managed to walk out the door and never look back? How long did Jisung really have? He struggled to look away from Minho, knowing that if he looked now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing something stupid. Like cry. Or kiss him.

 Minho’s eyes were sad, tracing over Jisung, but he nodded, an agreement to end the conversation.

 A blanket of silence fell over them, tense and suffocating. After a long moment, Jisung inhaled. “Hyung, I’m sorry.”

 Minho tilted his head, confused. “Why?”

 This had been bothering Jisung ever since yesterday, but he hadn’t brought himself to say anything, too upset about it and hating the feeling of guilt weighing him down. Jisung gestured to Minho half-heartedly. “Your injuries. The Sharks attacking you. That was all my fault,” he said, his voice restrained. “It’s my fault Jeongin was in danger, too.”

 Minho just blinked, the confusion not clearing from his face. “Why do you think that?”

 “Isn’t it obvious?” Jisung spluttered. “I’m the reason you’re caught up in this gang fight, I was the one who asked you to dig around the Sharks. That’s why it happened, right? They found out you were trying to get information?”

 Minho’s shoulders were tensed, but he nodded along. “Yes, but it’s not your fault.”  
   
 “Yes it is!” Jisung retorted, frustrated. “If I’d just been patient–Chan-hyung was finding information. I didn’t need to bring you into it, I shouldn’t have asked.”

 Shaking his head, Minho lifted his hand like he was going to comfort the younger, then lowered it like he’d changed his mind. “That doesn’t matter,” he said. Jisung glared at the bedsheets, fiddling with the blanket between his fingers. Minho sighed. “Jisung looked at me,” he said, his voice stern, commanding.

 Jisung looked up, and Minho gave him a soft smile. “It’s not your fault. It was my choice to get involved when you asked, right? I could’ve turned you down and I didn’t. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

 “Or those fucking Sharks,” Jisung huffed.

 Minho laughed, and the sound was beautiful, if not sad, because it was pure and honest. “Yeah, them too.” Minho looked at him for a moment, before he smiled a little. “I never said thank you,” he said. “For saving my life.”

  _Yes, you did,_ Jisung thought. _When you thought I was sleeping. You called me ‘Jisungie’ then kissed the back of my neck._ Pushing the memory away, Jisung grinned. “Maybe you need someone to watch your back after all,” he said playfully, only kind of kidding.

 Minho chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, his voice so quiet Jisung almost didn’t hear it. But he did, and he smiled to himself. “We should get downstairs, I’m sure there’s plenty of drama that we’re missing.”

 Jisung laughed. “Changbin and Felix shared a room last night so I’m sure we’re all going to get hell for it.”

 “Wonderful,” Minho said sarcastically, climbing out of Jisung’s bed.

 (Jisung fought not to think of what it would be like in another situation–Minho’s hair a beautiful mess as he left the bed, smiling. If Jisung’s heartbeat sped up at the sight, or the quizzical look Minho threw over his shoulder when he reached the door, then no one really needed to know.)

—

 Woojin was cooking, humming softly to himself, when they got to the kitchen. It was a strange sight to Jisung, to see the kitchen actually being used, for something more than a place for them to hang out and eat old take out food. “Hey, hyung,” he said, taking a seat at the table.

 Woojin gave Jisung a smile, then shot a glare at Minho a second later. “Make yourself comfortable, Jisungie,” he told the younger, pointedly not looking at Minho.

 Jisung sighed, but laughed a little at Minho’s stiffness, a scowl on his face as he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. “Why are you cooking, hyung? What’s the occasion?”

 Woojin laughed lightly. “I figured breakfast might make Changbin and Felix a little less...hostile,” he said, obviously choosing his words carefully. “More so Changbin than Felix,” he added as an afterthought.

 Jisung nodded. “Good idea. Plus Chan will be happy,” he said casually.

 Woojin hummed noncommittally, then he blinked over at Minho quickly. “Jisungie,” he said, keeping his voice light and sing-song like. “Can you go help Seungmin? He said he’d be out soon, but he’s probably having a little trouble with his cast and all.” Woojin gave him a sickly sweet smile, and despite the suspicion Jisung had for his hyung’s actions, he wanted to help Seungmin if he needed it.

 With one last glance at Minho, who was sipping his water and staring back at Woojin like it was the most normal thing in the world, he walked down the hallway to Seungmin’s room, gently knocking on the door before he entered. “Seungmin?” he called softly, in case he’d fallen asleep again.

 “Oh, thank God,” he heard Seungmin say. “I swear I’m going to kill Woojin.”

 Jisung raised an eyebrow as he found Seungmin sitting stubbornly on the side of his bed, cast awkward and stretched out in front of him. He was frowning, his lips drawn in a pout, and crossing his arms. Jisung laughed a little. “What’s up?”

 Seungmin didn’t say anything, just shot him a glare and pointed to the closet.  
   
 Confused, Jisung followed his eyes before he broke out into laughter. Seungmin’s crutches were on the highest shelf in the closet across the room. “You can’t hop to it?” Jisung asked, laughing.

 “Shut up,” Seungmin hissed. “I have terrible balance and this thing is more clunky than it looks,” he gestured bitterly to his cast.

 Jisung shook his head, but reached to pull down the crutches anyways. He had to stand on his tiptoes, since he was so short, but he was able to wiggle them over and down. He tossed them on the bed next to Seungmin, still laughing a little. “Did Woojin do that?”

 Seungmin huffed. “Who else spent the night in this room last night?”

 Jisung shrugged, heading towards the door. He stopped, smirking playfully at Seungmin. “Is that all? Unless you need help getting changed–”

 Seungmin threw a pillow at his face, and Jisung left the room, laughing.

 When he got back to the dining room, ready to congratulate Woojin on his prank, he found Woojin and Minho talking. Minho didn’t look happy–his eyebrows were drawn in a glare, and he was frowning, but he looked like he was more in thought than anything. Woojin glanced up as Jisung entered, giving him a curious look. “What’s going on, hyung?” Jisung asked.

 Woojin smiled. “Nothing, Sungie. Thanks for helping Seungmin.”

 With that, he went back to cooking, humming quietly like he’d been there the whole time.

 Jisung sat next to Minho carefully. “What was that all about?” he pressed.

 Minho shook his head. “Nothing.”

 Jisung opened his mouth to stubbornly keep pressing the subject, but Jeongin and Hyujin came downstairs at that moment, quickly followed by Seungmin, grumbling as he used his crutches to push out a chair to sit in. With a laugh, Jisung noticed that Jeongin and Hyunjin were both swimming in a pair of pajamas that Woojin leaves at the house just in case he needs to stay a couple of days.

 Jeongin smiled at everyone, pouting when Minho didn’t even look at him, still staring at the table thoughtfully. Hyunjin gave him a look that said ‘leave him be’ and they both took a seat. They were quickly joined by Changbin and Felix, who were pointedly not looking at each other, then Chan, who looked like he hadn’t even slept.

 It felt oddly normal to have everyone gather at the dining room table as Woojin placed food down. It felt like an–albeit, weird–family. Except they were a bunch of rejects that barely knew each other. Needless to say, they sat in silence for the entirety of breakfast. Even Jeongin, who kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, but would close it again with a warning glare from Hyunjin.

 At the end of breakfast, everyone sat in silence, waiting for someone else to talk. Jeongin squirmed a little bit before his eyes brightened, and he said, “Oh, Jisung-hyung!”

 “Yeah?” Jisung questioned, a little relieved for a break in the tension.

 Jeongin tugged a ring off his finger, handing it to Jisung across the table. “This is yours,’ he said, then scratched his neck sheepishly. “I forgot to give it back to you yesterday.”

 Jisung smiled, sliding the ring back over his finger, and missing how Minho’s eyes watched the action carefully, darkly. “Oh, thank you Jeongin-ah.”

 Finally Chan glanced at each individual person. “I think we should talk about the best course of action,” he said, taking a deep breath. When he saw the collective confusion, he added, “Not about the Sharks, we can... deal with them later. But I mean for the general safety of everyone here.”

 Minho tensed, his eyes shooting briefly to Woojin, who met his gaze cooly.

 Chan sighed. “No one is going to like this but I think everyone here should stay here. At least for a little while.”

 Jisung’s mouth gaped open, and he waited for everyone to decline, start yelling, but he just saw solemn expressions.

 Jeongin, obviously a little nervous, nodded. “Actually, I was going to ask if it was okay if I stay here anyways. With everything that happened in the past day... I don’t want to go back to my apartment alone,” Jeongin said in a small voice.

 Minho’s head shot up. “You wouldn’t be alone,” he said hurriedly. “You would stay with me.”  
   
 Hyunjin shook his head. “That’s too close to where the Sharks found you,” he said slowly, like he’d been thinking about this seriously. “I would suggest for you–both of you–to stay with me, but I can’t guarantee safety, either. I live close to your apartment building. It would be too easy to find you.”  
   
 “And here, I won’t ever be alone. There’s always someone in the house,” Jeongin said quietly, peeking at the members around the table. “I shouldn’t trust you guys, because you’re gang members, but I’ve felt safe these past couple of days and if Minho-hyung trusts you guys, then I do, too.”

 Minho’s face soured. “I _don’t_ trust them,” he muttered.  
   
 Jisung shot him a glare. “You don’t trust anyone.”

 “For good reason!” Minho deflected.

_“Get over it, hyung!”_ Hyunjin yelled. The room went deathly quiet after that, and Hyunjin even seemed surprised at his own voice. His face softened, but he still looked dark, stern. He shook his head a little. “Hyung,” he began.

 Minho scowled. “Don’t.”

 “Hyung, you can’t go through your whole life carrying around what happened. You don’t have to–” he paused, frustrated. “You don’t have to join them or anything. You don’t even have to fully trust them. But at least recognize that right now you and Jeongin are both safer if you stay here.”

 “Don’t mention what happened,” Minho growled.

 Jisung stared at the other boy for a second, completely caught off guard. He’d never seen Minho so mad before. He tried to ignore the twinge of hurt over just how defensive Minho was being. He knew he still had his reservations about gangs, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t at least _trust_ them. They’d been the ones to save Jeongin, and stitch Minho up. It’s not like they would turn around all of the sudden and try to hurt them.

 “Hyung,” Jeongin squeaked. “I’m going to stay here no matter what.”

 Minho glared at him, but it softened quickly. He took a couple of deep breaths. “Fine. You’re right. It’s safer for you guys here.”

 “‘You guys’?” Jisung said, finally speaking up. “Minho, you should stay here, too. If the Sharks find out that you made it out of that alley...”

 Minho’s eyes darkened. “If they didn’t want me to make it out of that alley, then they would’ve made sure I couldn’t. I’m fine.”

 Jisung stood up, his chair flying back with the force of it. He clenched his fists. “Stop saying that! I don’t care if you think you’re going to be fine, it’s too dangerous!” he shouted. He could feel tears brimming his eyes, and he angrily wiped them away. “Stop being so fucking _stubborn_ and just accept a little bit of help!”

 Minho followed him in standing up, easily towering over Jisung, his eyes flaming. “Right, and what do you think will happen if they find me shacking up with the Strays after they beat me half to death for even remotely _associating_ with you?”

 “They won’t!” Jisung countered. Minho narrowed his eyes and Jisung looked away. “And if they did, you at least wouldn’t be alone this time. We won’t let anything happen to you. _I_ won’t let anything happen to you again.”

 Minho sat back down, shaking his head. “Jisung–”

 “I will bar that damn door myself if I have to,” Hyunjin said, crossing his arms.

 Jeongin nodded. “Hyung, you should stay here with me and Hyunjin.”

 Jisung glared at Minho, waiting for him to answer. He knew there was a challenge in his eyes–a dare not unlike the one he felt when they were in his bed this morning. He dared Minho to deny him this time.

 Minho met his stare evenly, knowing why Jisung was staying quiet now. “Fine,” he said, then turned to Chan. “But I want to know what’s going on. The Sharks are my business, too, and they made it that way when they threatened the people I care about.”

 Jisung’s heart skipped a beat. Surely he just meant Jeongin and Hyunjin?

 “That’s fair,” Chan said, nodding.

 “And we need to grab some of mine and Jeongin’s stuff. If we do it soon, it won’t be as suspicious. We could just be staying in a hotel or something for all they know.”

 “Okay, so you should go today,” Chan confirmed. “It’s best if you go alone, though. As much as I’d like to send someone with you just in case...”

 Minho nodded. “It’s too dangerous. If we’re seen with Strays getting our stuff, it’ll be bad.” He motioned to Jeongin, who stood up with no small amount of nervous energy. “We should go get dressed. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

 “I’ll come, too,” Hyunjin offered, then followed them up the stairs.

 Even though Jisung knew that it was too dangerous for him to accompany them, he couldn’t help the shot of anxiety that pulled at him. He didn’t like the idea of the three of them going alone. It wasn’t likely for the Sharks to attack them again so soon, they probably thought that Minho had learned some kind of lesson, but was still being smart about moving them out of the apartment building. Logically, it was better that they go alone and look vulnerable, that way the Sharks will think they’d done what they intended to do. But on the other hand, he knew that neither Jeongin or Hyunjin could fight, and Minho was still injured (and probably shouldn’t even be going anywhere, but, Jisung decided, it was better to pick your battles).

 Jisung met the group at the bottom of the stairs, standing in front of the door and staring at the ground.

 Minho sighed. “Jisung.”

 “Just,” Jisung took a deep breath, before he met Minho’s eyes. They were serious, but, Jisung hoped, held understanding, too. He didn’t seem as mad as he’d been earlier. Maybe it was just resignation. “Just be careful,” Jisung decided to say, even though there were a million other things he could’ve said, wanted to say.

 Minho didn’t respond, so Jeongin stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling widely. “We will be, hyung.”

 Jisung wondered how Jeongin could still smile like that and be positive after everything he’d been through in the past couple of days. It was like nothing could penetrate his happiness, and Jisung found himself smiling back without any thought. “Okay,” he said, stepping aside.

 “We’ll be back in about a couple of hours,” Minho told him, sliding past Jisung without another glance as they all walked out the door.

 Jisung watched them go, feeling a surge of protectiveness, but he pushed it down quickly, deciding it was best not to worry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just about caught up on posting to where I am on writing, so updates might start being once a week, which I'm sorry about! Also my writing schedule is a little crazy since I'm still in school (I'm a senior), but I'm trying to keep up. 
> 
> Last night I planned out the rest of the story and all the big events and we've got some fun stuff coming... so just know there are probably at least 13 chapters left... probably more...
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Sorry if this feels like it cuts off in a weird spot because it kind of does (so does the next chapter, these two kind of go together but I didn't want to post all at once). ALso the scene with Seungmin is kind of thrown in there, but it was fun (and Woojin talking to Minho is a little important)--the structure of the next couple of chapters are a little messy, but that's just because there's a lot going on, so I'm sorry for that :')
> 
> Love you guys!!! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I wanted to post this either Wednesday or yesterday, but that didn't happen and I'm sorry!! I got really sick (which is dumb because I spent more time at home, but I was too dead to do anything, so wasted writing time), but I'm feeling a little better! And I've been excited to update just because now I have a pretty good idea of where this story is going. 
> 
> In other news, I've officially updated everything I've written so from here on out, it will probably be updates weekly? I'm not entirely sure, depends on when I get time to write. I'm sorry about that! But I'm still as excited as ever for this story!
> 
> I... didn't edit this chapter :)))

 In the absence of Minho, Jeongin and Hyunjin, Jisung fought to find a distraction, hopefully in the form of playing games or messing with Seungmin, but when he walked to the living room what he found instead was yet another fight, one that was probably just a continuation of the one from the night before. Except this time it was between Changbin, who was sitting at one end of the couch with his arms crossed, and Felix, who was on the opposite ending, staring at the floor like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. He remained behind the couch, out of sight, ready to run at the first sign of danger.

 Jisung had walked in on a tense silence, but it was obvious that there had been unpleasant words only seconds before. He considered leaving for a second, before Changbin said, “Why’d you leave the Sharks, anyways?”

 Jisung watched as Felix tensed, the question obviously making him uncomfortable. At this point, Jisung knew he should walk away, that if Felix decided to tell the older, it wasn’t words that he was meant to hear. But his feet were glued to the ground.

 Felix shook his head. “I’m–it’s hard to talk about,” he said, his voice falling into a whisper at the end.

 “Does Chan know?” Changbin asked darkly.

 Felix closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. “Yes.”

 “Right,” Changbin said with a nod. “If that’s all.” He stood up seriously, turning to walk away before his eyes fell on Jisung. He groaned. “How long have you been there?”

 Jisung flushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Long enough.”

 Felix jumped in surprise, turning around to see Jisung standing there. He took a shaky breath, before saying, “Okay, I guess you deserve to hear this, too.”

 Jisung shook his head quickly. “No, no, if it’s hard to talk about, you really don’t have to–”

 “No, Changbin-hyung is right. I have to talk about it at some point.”

 “If you’re sure...” Jisung said hesitantly, sitting down on the couch across from the pair.

 “Not really,” Felix said, an attempt at a joke, but his laugh was strained and his hands were shaking. “Jisung, you told me that if I ever needed to talk to someone, I could talk to you. I should’ve, and I’m sorry. And Changbin-hyung...” he said, peeking at the older boy out of the corner of his eye. The boy in question stubbornly avoided his gaze. “I should’ve told you a long time ago. I was just too scared.”

 “It’s okay, Felix,” Jisung said, unsure of what else would make the freckled boy feel better.

 “It’s not really,” Felix said, smiling sadly. “But I need to tell you guys now. I was a Shark for about three years. It’s kind of similar to the Strays–they took me in when I was at my lowest point–but it was never a family. I didn’t ever feel as safe or secure as I do here, and I want you guys to know that. That the Strays are the family I never had, that everyone here is all I could ever ask for.” Tears began to gather in Felix’s eyes, but he ignored them and continued.

 “Around five months ago, I saw something I shouldn’t have. They know that I saw, and they threatened me to keep it a secret. I was scared, so I complied easily, and they let me go.” The tears were flowing freely now, and Felix still didn’t do anything to stop them. Jisung wondered if it felt good to cry after so long of holding it in. “I honestly thought,” he took a shaky breath, “I thought they were going to kill me for what I saw. When I realized they weren’t going to, I ran. I was scared they were going to change their minds, and after what I saw... I couldn’t stay.

 “Chan found me fairly easily actually, trying to keep my head down at the train station. It had only been a week, and when he offered to buy me a meal, I told him that I used to be a Shark. Maybe I thought _he_ would kill me, but I was tired at that point, struggling to stay under the radar. You guys know the rest, about me joining the Strays.” Felix paused, then finally wiped his eyes. “Up until a month ago, I thought they just didn’t notice that I was gone, but they must have finally realized I was missing and who I was.”

 It was quiet while Jisung and Changbin let Felix’s story settle in. “I’m sorry,” Jisung said. “That’s really terrible. I can’t imagine the feeling of wondering if the people around you–the people who are supposed to be your friends–are going to kill you.” Jisung’s heart felt heavy, the story affecting him more than he thought it would. The Strays were all he had. He couldn’t imagine being without them, couldn’t imagine any reason to leave.

 “Felix...” Changbin said, his voice hesitant. “What did you see?”

 “They killed someone,” Felix said, choked. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his face. “Which isn’t weird, right? They’re a gang, it’s not the most extreme, but...”

 Jisung squatted down in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But what?”

 Felix looked up, his eyes big and sad and overflowing. “But he was a member. He was a Shark and they tortured him then cut his throat. And they were laughing.” Felix pressed his face into his legs again, muffling his next words. “He was my best friend.”  
   
 Jisung’s heart broke, and he pulled Felix into a hug. “That’s so fucking terrible,” he said. He _hated_ the Sharks. If he _ever_ got the chance he would kill the assholes that did this to Felix, but right now, he focused on running a comforting hand through Felix’s hair. He glanced up at Changbin, whose eyes were wide with concern, his demeanor finally softened.

 Jisung smiled sadly, pulling back to wipe at Felix’s eyes and straighten his hair back. “It’s okay now,” Jisung said. “No matter what, you’re a Stray.”

 Felix sniffed, shaking his head. “People keep getting hurt because of me.”

 “No,” Changbin growled. “It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare think it’s your fault.” The words were harsh, but there was an underlying softness fiercely protective.

 Jisung stood quietly, deciding it was best to leave the two alone as Changbin gathered Felix into his own arms, leaving as Felix buried his face into Changbin’s neck.

 If anything, he was happy that they wouldn’t fight anymore, even if they still had a lot of things to figure out, it was a step in the right direction for the pair.

 On the other hand, he knew why the Sharks were so determined to get Felix now. What he saw could ruin them. Even if people didn’t believe it, that’s the kind of rumor that could haunt people. They’d lose members if other people thought they were in danger of losing their lives by joining the gang. Being feared is one thing, but if members in your own gang don’t trust each other–especially the higher people–then the gang falls apart from the inside.

 If they found Felix, the Sharks _would_ kill him. Jisung took a shaky breath, leaning against a wall in the hallway outside the living room. Too many people had already been hurt–they were lucky everyone was still, in general, mostly okay. But this had to stop before it went too far, and Jisung was scared that by the time they found a course of action, it would be too late.

—

 To Jisung’s immense relief, Minho, Jeongin, and Hyunjin arrived back at the house after a couple of hours, each holding a duffle bag of clothes. In addition, Jeongin was holding onto a stuffed lion plush, the head tucked under his chin as he dragged his stuff through the doorway.

 Jisung hurried to help them with their stuff, grabbing the bag that Jeongin was carrying and reaching for Minho’s bag. He decided it was best for his health to give up on that when Minho glared at him, pulling the bag closer to his own side. Jisung stepped back, raising his free hand in surrender.  
   
 The three of them hauled their stuff up the stairs, and within the hour, they were all set up. Even their rooms–Jisung’s, Seungmin’s, and the guest bedroom that was housing Hyunjin and Jeongin–had blow up mattresses so that none of them had to share a bed. (Jisung was only a little disappointed about that fact.)

 There was still a lot to be said, and many things to be worked out, so they decided that the best option was to discuss everything that had been discovered over the past day after dinner, in hopes that they’d all be able to focus and relax.

 Until then, there was an awkward tension over the house as everyone tried to find something to do, and nobody being entirely comfortable with everyone else. To Jisung’s surprise, it became Seungmin’s personal mission to make Jeongin happy and normal, given the situation. He was probably the most like a fish out of water, and it was easy to tell that he was still a little wary around the members, despite his initial curiosity and excitement to be around the gang members. Jisung found Seungmin and Jeongin playing video games in the living room, and was happy to see that Jeongin was smiling, braces twinkling in the afternoon sun shining through the window.

 Jisung found Hyunjin in the kitchen with Woojin and Chan, keeping a close eye on Jeongin, but also trying to learn more about the gang. It was kind of funny to Jisung, actually, the way he was questioning the oldest members–he was almost like a mom. He asked about drugs (because there was “no way in hell that he’d let Jeongin around any of that”), then violence, then corruption, then money. Jisung wasn’t sure if he gave up in the end, or if he decided that they passed the test, but eventually he settled and volunteered to help them cook dinner.

 Changbin and Felix had gone up to the room they’d shared the night before–the only room without a blow up mattress–and hadn’t been down in a couple of hours. When Jisung ventured upstairs to look for Minho (who, frustratingly, seemed to be the only one keeping to himself), he heard soft music coming from Felix’s door, and their voices, talking quietly. Jisung wasn’t sure, but he thought he might’ve heard Changbin singing.

 The door to his room was shut when he got to it, and he hesitated before knocking, finding it weird that he was knocking on his own bedroom door. He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the room. He frowned when he found that it was empty. He stood in the doorway for a minute, looking at his bed and the space on the floor that was now taken up by another haphazardly made bed and Minho’s bag of clothes. Jisung expected to find Minho up here, avoiding the others.

 Jisung’s gaze flickered to Minho’s bag, his eyes catching on an object stuffed into the side of the bag, half under a hoodie, like it was thrown in there last second, and Minho had tried to hide it. Jisung could tell what it was by the outline of the shape, but he was still shocked to see it, and couldn’t resist when he began to walk forward, kneeling down to inspect it. His heart was beating fast, and he knew he shouldn’t look through Minho’s stuff but if that was what he thought it was, he had the right to know, right?

 He glanced behind him to check that the door was shut and no one but him could see before he bit his lip, then flipped the sweatshirt off the object. His breath caught when his suspicions were confirmed, and at the same time the door opened. Jisung stood quickly, whipping around and doing his best not to look guilty as his gaze was met with Minho–his hair freshly wet from a shower.

 Minho raised an eyebrow at him, then narrowed his eyes warily. “What are you doing?” he hissed, looking between Jisung and his bag.

 Jisung’s mouth gaped for a second, and he tried to think of a lie, before the words, “Why the hell do you have a gun?” tumbled out of his mouth instead. He winced at the brashness of his question.

 Minho glared, stalking past Jisung to close his bag and kick it into the corner of the room. “Why the hell are you going through my stuff?” he countered, rounding on him.  
   
 Jisung balked, meeting his scowl evenly. “I wasn’t! I came up here to look for you hoping you might come down and socialize, and,” Jisung huffed, frustrated. “Your bag was just _open_ , the gun wasn’t even hidden well.”

 “Maybe because I thought you’d have the decency to not go through my shit.”

 “Why do you _have_ it?” Jisung said, eyeing Minho with a new sense of caution.

 Minho rolled his eyes. “Is that a serious question? After what’s happened? I’m not taking any chances. Especially now that Jeongin is involved. And come on, do you really expect me to believe that Chan doesn’t have guns stashed around here somewhere? And throughout the city?”

 Jisung blinked at him. They _did_ have guns around the house, hidden in places that only Chan and Changbin knew about. Jisung was well-trained when it came to a gun, he could probably take down a moving target pretty easily, but he’d never actually used one against a person, and hoped he’d never have to. Actively seeing a gun with the intention of use just made the situation all the more real to Jisung, and he sat down on his bed heavily, letting out a long breath. “Right. Okay. Just–keep it there. If Chan finds out, he’ll flip,” Jisung advised, not making eye contact with Minho. “He already doesn’t trust you, if he finds out about this, there’s no way he’d let you stay.”  
   
 Minho snorted. “And that’s a bad thing?”

 Jisung shot him a glare. “It is if you want what’s best for Jeongin and Hyunjin. And you, too,” he added, peeking at him out of the corner of his eye.

 Minho ran a hand through his hair, ignoring how it made the wet strands stick up at a weird angle. “This situation is so fucked up.”

 Jisung laughed, but it came out choked. “Yeah, I know.”

 It was silent for a long moment as Jisung stared down at his hands in his lap, Minho watching him carefully. Jisung couldn’t help but wonder what would happen now–they were already too far into this fight against the Sharks. They had to fight back to show them that they couldn’t just walk all over the Strays, but Jisung wasn’t sure he wanted to risk the lives of more Strays in the process. And what if they found out about Felix? About Minho? About Jeongin and Hyunjin? It’s one thing for the Sharks to know about them and want to find them, but if they knew they were all under the same _roof_? They’d all be in serious danger.

 “Are you–are you okay?” Minho’s voice was soft, pulling Jisung out of his thoughts.

 Jisung took a shaky breath, glancing up at Minho, then back to his hands. “Yeah,” he lied. He hadn’t really known Minho for very long, but he knew that he was scared at the idea of losing him. The fear he’d felt when he thought Minho was dying in an alley–he wasn’t sure he could go through that again. He cursed himself for getting attached to people so easily, for trusting so easily.

 Felix was another story. He was like a brother to Jisung, even though he’d been with the gang for the shortest amount of time. Knowing that he was the one the Sharks really wanted, the one they were willing to kill to get terrified him. Until this was somehow settled, Felix wasn’t safe, and, by association, neither was anyone in the house.

 “You’re not okay,” Minho said carefully, taking a step closer to him.

 “Why do you care?” Jisung spat, scowling up at him.

 Minho stopped in his tracks eyes widening in surprise.

 “You’re impossible,” Jisung sighed, dramatically putting his face in his hands. “Every time I remind myself that you _don’t_ care you–you say some shit like that. And with everything that’s going on, I don’t know whether I can trust you or I should, but I want to. Even though I _know_ you don’t really trust me. And the Sharks and Felix and everyone here I’m just,” Jisung’s voice cracked, and he knew he was rambling, but he kept going anyways, “I’m so scared. I can’t protect everyone, I know that, but it’s a lot harder when you won’t even fucking _trust_ –”

 “Jisung!” Minho said, his voice harsh, cutting off Jisung’s rambling.

 Jisung jumped, looking up in surprise at the sudden outburst. “W-What?”

 Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair before he kneeled in front of Jisung to meet his eyes. “Just calm down for a second, okay?”

 Jisung blinked at him, unsure, before he looked away, nodding. “Right. Calm,” Jisung said.

 “Okay?”

 Jisung nodded again. “Okay.”

 Minho was quiet for a long moment, thinking, before he spoke again. “It’s okay to be scared,” he said slowly, carefully. “We all are. We all have people here that we care about, want to make sure they’re safe. But that’s why we need to stay calm and think everything through. Panicking is exactly what the Sharks want you to do. They want to get in your heads, we can’t let them do that.”

 “You’re right,” Jisung agreed. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for going off on you, you didn’t deserve that.”

 Minho laughed a little. “I kind of did.”

 Jisung chuckled, feeling lighter. “Yeah, you kind of did.”

 Jisung met Minho’s eyes, and they both laughed all over again, the stress of the past couple of days bubbling up into laughter. They went quiet for a little longer, just looking at each other, until Minho spoke. “Jisung–”

 Panicked, Jisung cut him off. “How’s your side?” he asked hurriedly. He could sense that whatever Minho was about to say would be serious, and he wasn’t entirely ready to hear it, especially if the conversation would roam anywhere near where it did this morning. _When all this is over_ , Minho had said. Jisung didn’t want to know what Minho had wanted to say.

 Minho frowned. “My side’s fine,” he said, watching Jisung carefully.

 “Are you sure? Because I can get you more pain medicine–”

 “Yeah, because that went so well last time.”

 “–or we can ice it. Are you sure you don’t want to go to an actual doctor? Maybe Woojin should look at it, he’s the best with medical things. Or–”

 “Jisung, you’re ranting again,” Minho said, resting a hand on his arm to calm him down.

 “Right,” Jisung agreed, looking down with a small smile. His arm burned where Minho was touching him, and he itched to grab his hand, pull him closer. He settled for resting his hand over Minho’s lightly, ignoring the way Minho tensed slightly before relaxing. “We should probably go downstairs,” he said after a second. “They’re going to want to talk about the Sharks pretty soon, try to find a course of action.”

 Minho nodded, standing. “We should be there for that.”

 “Are you sure that’s not too much of a gang activity for you?” Jisung said, his words coming out more bitterly than he’d intended.

 Minho scowled. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been a part of this situation from the beginning. After this, though.”

 “Yeah, I know,” Jisung muttered. “Strangers. That’s what you said, right? That’s fine. Whatever.”

 Minho frowned again, the edges of his lips turning down as if pulled by strings. “That’s not–”

 Jisung laughed again, shrugging Minho’s hand off his arm as he stood up. “Right. We should get downstairs.”

 “Jisung–”

 “Just leave me alone, we’re going to miss the talk if we don’t hurry up–”

 “Jisung!” Minho yelled.  
   
 “Seriously, just–”

 Jisung was cut off by arms encircling his waist, and Jisung stiffened in surprise, his anger long forgotten by the feeling of Minho pulling his body into him, his back pulled tight to Minho’s chest. Jisung’s breath caught in his throat, and he didn’t even realize it, but there were tears in his eyes, and without thinking, he turned around and buried his face into the curve of Minho’s neck. He fisted his hands into the front of Minho’s shirt, still frustrated and emotional.

 Minho seemed taken aback by the change in Jisung’s temper, but pulled him closer once again, casually reaching up to run a hand through Jisung’s hair.

 “I hate you,” Jisung mumbled into Minho’s shirt.

 “I know,” Minho hummed back. “I’m sorry.”

 “Why are you doing this?” Despite how upset he was, Jisung made no move to leave Minho’s embrace, and maybe, he thought, he hated himself a little bit, too.

 “I don’t like seeing you upset,” Minho whispered, honest. “I’ve never been able to see you upset, from the first time I saw you in that café,” Minho added with a short, clipped laugh.

 Jisung froze in Minho’s arms, his hands tightening in his shirt like he might disappear. But Minho just ran a light hand over his back, uncharacteristically soft. “This...is a weird situation for both of us, yeah?” he said, his voice still mellow. “This morning–when I was about to talk about when this is all over–”

 Jisung shook his head rapidly, effectively cutting Minho off, and making an attempt to pull away, but Minho just readjusted his grip, then took a deep breath. Jisung could hear his heart pounding. “No, let me speak,” he said fiercely, his tone the opposite of the steady, calming ministrations of his hand in Jisung’s hair. “I never should’ve said we’d be strangers. I don’t think I can do that anymore. I don’t think I could ever...” Minho trailed off, and Jisung pulled back to look at him.

 “Could ever what, hyung?” Jisung asked, searching Minho’s face for any signs of dishonesty. His eyes were wide, and he looked almost as scared as Jisung felt.

 Minho shook his head a little. “Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. But I... I do trust you, Jisung. Just give me time. This is new, and having ties to people in our world–any kind of ties, is dangerous. You’re not the only one who’s scared of losing something.” His last words were so quiet, Jisung almost didn’t hear them.

 Minho reached up to wipe at Jisung’s wet cheeks, then tilted his head a little before his eyes darkened. “But this doesn’t mean I trust everyone else. We’re here because this is the safest place, but the second we work something else out, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and I need to leave.”

 Jisung sighed in defeat, but nodded. “Alright,” he said. He took a shaky breath. “We can figure the rest out as we go, yeah?”

 “Yeah,” Minho agreed. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen, and I may not trust all of the Strays, but I hate the Sharks more. For now, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure we take down those assholes. That I can promise.”

 Minho pulled away, then stood up, and Jisung instantly missed his arms around him, his hands lingering on his back and in his hair, but he forced himself to look neutral. Minho was just comforting him because he was upset, that was it.

 Jisung forced a smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “The Sharks are going to pay for what they’ve done. But you have to know that if you help us take them down, people are going to know. You don’t want to have ties to any gangs, but–”

 Minho nodded. “But I’ll always be known as someone who helped the Strays. Jisung, people are always trying to guess which side I’m on. After we take down the Sharks–and we will–everyone will think they can finally place me in a box,” Minho’s eyes darkened, and he looked at Jisung carefully. “I say, let them keep guessing. I’m full of surprises.”

 Jisung shivered, knowing that should scare him, but it didn’t. In fact, it was entirely true. Minho was full of surprises. One minute, he’s pushing Jisung away, the next, he’s pulling him back and wiping his tears like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. There was still so much about Minho that Jisung didn’t know, and Jisung knew he _shouldn’t_ trust him, but it was impossible for him not to. It was like a moth to flame, Minho always kept him on his feet, kept him wanting more. And weirdly enough, Jisung liked it.

 “Now let’s go get dinner,” Minho said, bringing him out of his thoughts. “I’m sure Chan will have plenty he’ll want to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I was originally going to cut about half that scene of Minho and Jisung at the end and make it just Soft, and then I was going to make it only Angst (with literally no fluff I'm sorry I was going to do it), and then this happened oops
> 
> I wanted to make the Minho/Jisung angst last longer with less fluff but we have more angst and development of relationships coming up so I thought I'd give you this :)
> 
> (Jisung is my emotional child, he's really strong but also he has Feelings and he doesn't mind showing them)
> 
> Also!! It's been super cool to read your comments recently!!! There were two people talking about the last chapter and it was so amazingly cool to see them talk about it back and forth it really makes me realize that woAh people are aCtUaLLy reading this?? So really just thank you for all your amazing comments, it means the world!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I only know how to progress the plot with dialogue so here have this 5k mess ily

 

Despite their plans, the dinner table was, once again, uncomfortably silent. The only good thing that had happened in the first twenty minutes was Changbin and Felix openly placing their entwined hands on the table, Changbin fixing the whole table with a challenging look. Felix nudged him at that, but Chan just smiled softly at the couple, while Seungmin muttered, “Finally,” and shoved a bunch of rice into his mouth when Changbin glared at him.

 After another prolonged silence–the only sound being their collective chewing, and Jeongin’s quiet “Thank you, hyungs”–Chan finally cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking, and I came to a difficult conclusion.”  
   
 The clatter of eight sets of chopsticks hitting the plates filled the room, followed by another quiet moment. Chan glanced at Woojin, who nodded calmly. “We can’t attack the Sharks.”

 Changbin stood up, his chair scraping back violently. “What the fuck?” he said. His voice was almost a yell, but still dangerously low, holding venom that Jisung didn’t think he would hear directed at Chan. Even when he’d found out about Felix, he hadn’t been this mad.

 Chan shook his head. For the first time, Jisung noticed how tired his leader looked. There were dark rings under his eyes and he wasn’t holding himself with his usual confidence, instead he was hunched over a little. Yet, he was still one of the strongest people Jisung had ever seen, and he met Changbin’s gaze evenly. “We can’t attack the Sharks,” he repeated, his voice soft, tired. “At least, not yet. We just don’t have the resources right now, or the people. We can’t go in with five people and wishful thinking. We’d need at least two weeks to get more Strays together to figure out a plan, get weapons. We don’t even know which of the Strays we can trust right now.”  
   
 Changbin scowled, sitting back down.

 Seungmin looked thoughtful for a second as Jisung watched him across the table carefully, not entirely sure how he was going to react. On one hand, Seungmin was always one of the more levelheaded members. On the other, this situation was a lot more personal than some. “The Sharks broke my leg,” Seungmin began, staring down at his empty plate. “They fucked up Jisung’s face.” At this, Jisung nodded, glaring at the table. Next to him, Minho tensed in his seat. “And they made Felix fear for his life, continuously threatening him.” Seungmin bit his lip as he paused, before he looked at Chan. “Hell, they beat the shit out of Minho-ssi and threatened Jeongin-ah. Hyung, I don’t care if it takes a fucking year. They have to pay.”

 “We have to work faster than a year, though,” Woojin said, finally speaking. “If what Minho told us yesterday is true, they’re planning to attack us. We don’t know how long we have before that.”

 Chan nodded. “I want to plan for an attack, but we need to be playing defense until we can either snuff out _their_ plan or secure our own.”

 “What do you mean by playing defense?” Jisung asked, nervously looking around the table.

 “A couple of things,” Chan began. “Starting with Felix,” he glanced at the boy in question hesitantly. “He’s the one the Sharks want, although now I’m sure it’s more of a pride thing. Felix isn’t a threat to them and he hasn’t been for a while. It’s obvious he’s not going to spread what he learned about the Sharks–and although that’s not the worst idea, we would never make him.”

 Felix frowned at the table. “If I have to, I’m willi–”

 “It hasn’t gotten to that point yet,” Chan assured him. “For now, you’re just going to have to continue what you’ve been doing–staying inside as much as possible. The Sharks don’t know where you are, they’re not even entirely sure you’re with us. Logically speaking, you should be on the other side of the world.”

 “I’m starting to think that would’ve been the smarter option,” Felix muttered.

 “No,” Changbin hissed before softening a little, smiling at Felix reassuringly. “We’re the safest place for you.” He raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Especially now that we actually _know._ ”

 Felix flushed, hitting Changbin’s arm in mock anger.

 “I think that’s the best course of action for Jeongin-ah, too,” Chan added, directing his words at the youngest, who looked up in surprise. “Of course, you’re free to do whatever, but the least you have to do with all of this violence, the better. We can protect you if you stay here, we can make sure someone is always here at every point of the day. On top of that, the Sharks are unaware of this house.” Chan paused, before ominously adding, “As far as we know.”

 Jeongin furrowed his eyebrows, thinking, before he nodded. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m missing but I don’t really think...” he trailed off, and, to Jisung’s surprise, Seungmin placed a comforting hand on the youngest’s shoulder, as he was in the closest proximity to him. Jeongin offered him a smile, showing off his braces, and, not for the first time, Jisung’s heart tugged at the reminder of just how young he is.

 “Where Jeongin goes, so do I,” Hyunjin said from the opposite side of the table. He smiled warmly at Jeongin. “And I’ll do what I can to help, too.”

 “I can try to see if I can find out anything else from any of the lower, less important Sharks. If they’re planning something big, they’ll know,” Minho added, obviously a little hesitant to speak, but there was conviction in his eyes.   

 “No! No way,” Jisung objected, turning to look at him.

 Minho raised an eyebrow at him. “Why not?”

 “Hyung!” he hissed incredulously. “When they found out you were trying to get information last time they almost _killed_ you! You can’t try that again!”

 Minho shrugged. “I’ll try a different group of Sharks. Stupider. It’s the quickest and easiest way to get information.”  
   
 Irritation flared up in Jisung and he crossed his arms. “Fuck no. Hyung, you’re still _recovering_ from their last attack on you, it’s not safe–”

 “If he wants to do it, we should just let him do it,” Changbin said.

 Jisung shot him a glare, opening his mouth to spit something back to him, but he was cut off by Chan. “Enough,” he said, his voice commanding in a way he rarely used it. “No one is going to interact with the Sharks. Jisung is right, it’s too dangerous.”

 Minho rolled his eyes. “With all due respect, _hyung_ , you’re not my leader.”

 Chan raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re right. But what happens if they do find out what you’re doing? Then they either attack you again or capture you? Do you really think getting yourself killed or kidnapped is a good plan?”

 Minho’s eyes darkened. “I might not get caught.”

 Chan shook his head. “No, I think we’re going to need you here. I don’t know you, Minho, but I’m sure there were other reasons the Sharks wanted you on their side. I’m surprised they _didn’t_ try to take you hostage.”

 Minho’s face soured and he turned away, but still responded. “It was a group of lower down Sharks. Probably didn’t even necessarily know who I was, just that I was trying to get shit on them. Fucking loyal to a fault, the dumbasses,” he spat.

 Jisung felt a stab in his chest at the reminder of just how much Minho hated gangs. Even with the amount of interaction with the Strays, he still held a certain ire for gangs, and Jisung wasn’t sure that would ever change, if he could ever make it change. He thought gangs were evil machines–and maybe the Sharks were–but it was different. The Strays were a family, everyone here had a genuine bond, a _reason_ –other than blind faith–to fight for each other. If Minho couldn’t see that, Jisung wasn’t sure how to make him.

 “Doesn’t matter,” Chan said. “I don’t want to risk it. I know how desperately the Sharks want you on their side.”

 “I don’t do sides,” Minho hissed.

 “Funny,” Hyunjin mumbled. “You seem pretty close to one side here.”

 Minho shot a glare at his friend. “ _Don’t_ start this right now. You know I’m only doing this because of the Sharks.”

 Hyunjin nodded. “Sure, hyung. And that’s why you’re so close with Jisung, too. Because of the Sharks?”

 The table went dead silent. Even Changbin knew the weight of what Hyunjin had just said. Jisung only blinked, shocked, watching as Minho’s face set. He was obviously angry, his body tensed and his hands flexing in his lap, but it was impossible to tell by the look on his face.

 For a second, Jisung thought that Hyunjin was jealous, but, when he looked closer, he could see a challenge in the latter’s eyes. Hyunjin had showed Jisung nothing but kindness, even if it was cautious. He didn’t have a problem with Jisung, he had a problem with Minho.

 Both of the boys’ faces had set as they glared at each other. “Hyung, you can’t–” Hyunjin began, but he was cut off by the sound of Minho’s chair scraping back on the floor.

 Everyone at the table was tense, waiting to see what would happen. Minho turned to Chan. “I’ll do what I can to help take down the Sharks. I’ll be a pawn–whatever, I don’t care. Tell me what to do, where to be. I’ll be a perfect fucking soldier, but you are _not_ my leader, and this is _not_ my gang. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

 Minho threw one last, calculated glance at Jisung before he left the table. Across from him, Hyunjin’s jaw clenched, and he threw his own chopsticks down, smiling apologetically around the table before he went after him.

 “Are they always like this?” Seungmin asked, looking at Jeongin.

 The youngest seemed almost unfazed, nodding. “A lot, yeah. They’ve known each other since high school–met on the dance team. They’re really close but they’ll argue about anything if they get the chance. Especially lately.” Jeongin shot a quick look at Jisung, and the latter wondered how it was his fault before the boy just shook his head. “Hyunjinnie-hyung just wants what’s best for him. Minho-hyung is stubborn.”

 “We can tell,” Woojin laughed a little. “But I have to admit it’s good to know he’s backing us up–somewhat.”

 Chan shook his head. “Okay, for those of you left–from now on I want at least two gang members in this house at all times. Everyone else, be on the lookout for any information involving an attack–it could be tomorrow, it could be in months. Unfortunately, we don’t know. I don’t think we have anything to worry about right now, these things take time to plan. Until then, this house is our safest option. Other than that, we need to start planning, too. Woojin, work on recruitment, and make sure they have no Shark ties–we can’t afford that right now. Once we have a solid plan, we’ll get a group of more trusted individuals together. Changbin, you work on ammunition, guns, anything that could be used as a suitable weapon.”

 “That’s going to be difficult,” Changbin said hesitantly. “It’s been getting harder to get ahold of any kind of gun power.”

 “I know. I have faith in you, though,” Chan said. “Seungmin, I want you to keep us updated with everything you can. Keep working on hacking into the Sharks’ system. I know it’s not the easiest task, but if you can do it, it’ll be a pretty big help.”

 “Okay,” Seungmin said, trying to look positive.

 “Other than that, you know what to do,” Chan said.

 One by one, everyone left the table until only Chan and Jisung were still sitting there. For a while, neither of them talked. Chan seemed to be deep in thought, his brow furrowed and a hand in his hair as he tried to figure things out. Jisung wasn’t sure what to say, uncomfortable. Finally, he decided to clear his throat, causing Chan to jump a little, like he’d forgotten that he was there. “You forgot to tell me what to do, hyung,” Jisung murmured.

 Chan laughed fondly. “Jisungie,” he said carefully. “I don’t always have to tell you what to do. I actually kind of thought you’d get a little mad at me if I tried to.”

 Jisung’s head shot up. “Of course not! You’re my leader!”

 “Your leader, not your mom, right?” Chan chuckled, using Jisung’s words from when he’d snapped at him the other day.

 Jisung flushed a little. “Sorry about that.”

 Waving him off, Chan smiled tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, Jisungie. You have every right to question me. I question _myself_.”

 Jisung shifted a little, not sure if he should say what he’d been wanting to, but decided it couldn’t hurt. “Hyung, you don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know? You’re tired, it’s okay to ask for some help.”

 Chan raised his eyebrows, and for a second, Jisung thought he’d overstepped his boundaries, but the older just laughed. “You’re right. I don’t mean to make it seem like I don’t want your guys’ help. I guess I’ve just always thought it was for the best of the gang, like it was the best way to keep everyone safe.”

 “We’re in a _gang_ , hyung. We’re never ‘safe’,” Jisung said, smiling. “But more than that, we chose to be here. And we care about you just as much as we care about everyone else.”

 Chan smiled warmly. “Thank you, Jisungie. I promise I’ll try to ask for help when I need it more.”

 Jisung grinned. “Good. I’m pretty sure Woojin-hyung has at least three ulcers by now.”

 Chan laughed, waving him off. “Okay, I get it, I see your point, stand down. Cease fire.”

 Both their laughter filled the room, and Jisung felt lighter than he’d felt in a long time. “Hyung, what _do_ you want me to do?”

 Chan grew serious, glancing behind Jisung as if he was making sure there wasn’t anyone else around. Jisung narrowed his eyes in confusion as Chan leaned closer. “You know you’re the only one he trusts,” Chan said. He wasn’t quite whispering, but he’d brought his voice down, ensuring that they wouldn’t be heard.

 “Seems like it depends on the day,” Jisung told him, only half-joking.  
   
 Instead of Chan taking the joke, he shook his head. “I don’t know what it is. Do you remember when Changbin met Felix for the first time?”

 Jisung snorted. “Changbin hated him.”

 “But a week later, Felix broke down crying and Changbin made it, like, his personal mission to make him happy,” Chan said. His voice held a lot of meaning, like he was waiting for Jisung to understand, but he was even more confused than when they’d started talking.

 “Where are you going with this?” he hissed.

 “I’m not trying to compare you two to Changbin and Felix, you’re very different people, but it’s kind of similar,” Chan said, a little cautiously.

 “How?”

 “Minho has a soft spot for you,” Chan finally said, his voice making it sound like the most simple thing ever.  
   
 Again, Jisung snorted.

 Chan didn’t laugh. “I’m serious,” Chan said with a little frown. “At first, I was worried about you getting too close to him. And maybe I still am a little, but...”

 “But _what_ , hyung?” Jisung prompted, a little unsure.

 “But now I’m sure that he would never let anything bad happen to you,” Chan finished, not a trace of any humor or teasing in his voice. “And God help the person who tried anything.”

 “Hyung, I–”

 “I’m not saying I want you to try to get him to join the gang,” Chan cut him off, holding up a hand. “I respect that he never will. But right now, you’re the only one he trusts, and I don’t care how tentative that is, we need it to make sure that he’ll have our back through this. There’s a lot more to what’s going on with him and the Sharks than what we know.”

 “How do you know?” Jisung asked, his voice hushed, eager. He always had a feeling that Chan was always holding back a little bit more than what he said. The second Jisung thinks he knows everything, he finds out there’s more he hasn’t been told. It was getting tiring.

 Chan shook his head. “I just do.” After a moment, his face cracked into a smirk, all traces of the seriousness of their conversation gone. “Now go, before loverboy gets suspicious.”

 “ _Hyung_ ,” Jisung whined. “It’s not like that.”

 Chan only raised an eyebrow in response, leaning back and watching as Jisung stalked out of the room.

 As Jisung walked up the stairs, Chan’s words played through his mind. _I’m sure that he would never let anything bad happen to you._ He felt his cheeks flushed. Chan was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. (The Felix situation, Jisung thought, didn’t count because he was withholding information, not creating it.) But how could he possibly know about this? He was just beginning to get Minho to admit that he maybe _trusted_ Jisung, forget had a soft spot for him.

 He decided to shake the conversation off, for now, as he finished his trek up the stairs to his room, pointedly trying to ignore the last part of what Chan said.

  _And God help the person who tried anything._

 He sighed as he entered his room, unsure of what he’d find there. But Minho wasn’t in there and Jisung couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved that he was alone. He flopped down onto his bed, and, even though it was early, he quickly fell asleep.

—

 “Wake up, Sungie.”

 Jisung blinked his eyes open, only to see a pillow flying at his head. He barely had time to duck, groaning sleepily as the pillow hit the back of his head instead of his face. “Hyung, what time is it?” he muttered into his pillow, still feeling drowsy despite the evidence of the sun climbing steadily in his window.

 “Seven,” Woojin responded, laughing at Jisung’s ruffled hair and tired squint. “Come on, get up. Let’s go for coffee.”

 Jisung glared at Woojin. “Hyung, it is _seven in the goddamn morning I am not_ –”

 “I’ll pay,” Woojin said bluntly, eyes shining in amusement when Jisung grumbled, sitting up in bed.

 Jisung yawned, staring at Woojin for a long second before he sighed. “Okay, but we’re going to Park Rose. Which, by the way, isn’t open for another hour.”

 Woojin rolled his eyes, leaning forward to grab Jisung’s own pillow and, once again, hit him over the head. “Yes, and you need a shower. Bad. Be ready in half an hour. Oh, and wake Changbin, he’s coming too.”

 “If you think I’m going to wake up the devil, you’re very wrong,” Jisung said, dragging a hand down in his face in a gesture of exhaustion.

 “If you do, I’ll buy you cake, too,” Woojin offered, already walking out of the room. “Love you, Jisungie,” he added at the last second, cackling evilly as he went.

 “Asshole,” Jisung muttered, even though he threw off his blanket, running a hand through his messy hair as he got out of the bed. He couldn’t resist to tossing a look at Minho over his shoulder as he left his room, the other boy awake on his mattress. Surprised, Jisung awkwardly smiled at him, but received nothing but a small glare as Minho rolled over. Jisung frowned, then shrugged it off. He must not be a morning person.

 After half an hour, Jisung had managed to dodge certain death by waking up Changbin (mostly thanks to Felix’s help, the boy smiling warmly at Jisung when he left the room, too afraid to deal with Changbin further), had showered, and dressed into somewhat presentable clothes. Sweats and a sweatshirt, of course.

 Woojin rolled his eyes at him when he saw Jisung–his clothes drowning him and his hair still wet, dripping into his eyes. “You’re a mess,” Woojin laughed.

 “At least I’m _here_ ,” Jisung shot back grumpily.

 “Shut up, asshole, I’m here,” Changbin said, walking down the stairs. The latter looked even worse off than Jisung. He was in the same clothes that he’d slept in, his hair sticking up in every direction, and the only reason his eyes were open was to glare at the two boys waiting for him. “What’s this about, Woojin? I need my beauty sleep.”

 “Sweetie, it’s not working for you,” Woojin quipped, grabbing his jacket from the closet near the door. “And can’t a hyung want to hang out with his dongsaengs?”

 Jisung narrowed his eyes. “Yes, but not you.”  
   
 “What are you talking about? I hang out with you guys all the time.”

 “Kicking my legs out from under me and calling it training while laughing isn’t hanging out, hyung,” Jisung muttered, following the oldest out the door.

 “It is if I buy you ice cream afterwords,” Woojin replied, shrugging.

 “But you didn’t,” Jisung said dully.

 Woojin waved him off. “Minor details.”

 Changbin groaned from where he was walking next to Jisung, burrowing his face into a hoodie that Jisung guessed he’d picked up off his floor. “I hate morning people,” he said.

 Jisung nodded. “They’re a rare breed. Deadly.”

 The morning air was cool around them, refreshing. Despite not necessarily being a morning person, Jisung had to admit that it _was_ a beautiful morning, and there was a sense of stillness in the early air. The world was calm–a feeling that he didn’t realize he’d desperately needed after the last couple of weeks.

 The café was quiet when the trio walked in. They’d only been open for about five minutes, and probably wouldn’t be busy for another hour. Jisung felt a weight fly off his shoulders. The café always gave him a sense of safety, like nothing bad could happen as long as he was within these walls, hands warmed by a mug of the best coffee he’d ever had (and he was not biased, even though Seungmin insisted he was).

 Nayeon seemed surprised when they walked in, taken off guard for a moment as she blinked between the trio. After a second, she smiled, warm and welcoming. “Hey guys,” she said, walking up to the counter. “Early morning?”

 Jisung glared at her, then directed it at Woojin, who was studying the menu carefully. “Unfortunately,” he muttered. Now that he was awake, the early morning wasn’t too bad, but he was still bitter about the loss of sleep, and he enjoyed annoying Woojin when he could get away with it.

 Woojin raised an eyebrow. “He’s just bitter that he didn’t get to cuddle his new boyfriend,” he said nonchalantly, not looking away from the menu.  
   
 Jisung spluttered, turning red, about to deny it, except Woojin interrupted his thoughts, ordering. As he promised, he got both Jisung and Changbin coffee and a cake, so Jisung decided to let his comment go, even if he did pout for a couple extra seconds, murmuring something along the lines of, “That’s not true.”

 Jisung directed the other two towards his usual table, then turned back to Nayeon, who  glanced at Jisung, interested, eyes light and teasing. Jisung shook his head, changing the subject. “Is your grandma here?”

 Nayeon shook her head. “She’s still sleeping. She comes in later these days,” Nayeon laughed a little, turning away from them to begin making their coffees.

 Jisung frowned, disappointed. He hadn’t been able to see Nayeon’s grandmother, Miss Yoon, for a while, and he’d been wanting to talk to her about Minho. He would’ve asked Nayeon about him but she began working at the café after everything had happened. When Jisung asked Minho about her, he said he’d never met Nayeon, just knew that she was Miss Yoon’s granddaughter. “How late does she come in?” he asked carefully. “Maybe if we stay long enough we’ll catch her.”

 Nayeon’s hands fumbled on a mug, dropping it. “Shit!” she cursed as the mug broke, glass pieces scattering across the floor. She sighed, looking up at Jisung with a tight smile. “I’m sorry, Jisungie, what was that? Sorry, it’s just been a long morning–a lot of stuff like this. Honestly, I’m such a mess today, really I–”

 “No, it’s okay, really,” Jisung told her. He frowned again as he watched her pick up the broken pieces, hands shaking. “Maybe you should take a day off, close the café and go home.”

 Nayeon shook her head. “I can’t do that,” she said, smiling sadly. “Money’s hard, you know.”

 “We could help–”

 “No, it’s okay, Jisung. Really,” Nayeon said, straightening up and throwing the sad remnants of the mug in the garbage. “I’m just being dramatic. You should go sit down with your friends.”

 “But you’re my friend, too,” Jisung pouted.

 Nayeon laughed. “You’re distracting me from my job.”

 Jisung held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, fine,” he laughed. He sat down with Woojin and Changbin, but kept a curious eye on Nayeon. Worry settled in his chest as he watched her short, clipped movements. He’d only known her for about a year, but she was a lot like her grandmother: determined and independent. Even if she needed help, she wouldn’t accept help, not for free.

 He sighed, turning back to his friends, finally tuning into the conversation.

 “It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Changbin was saying.

 “Who?” Jisung asked, looking between Changbin and Woojin.

 Changbin rolled his eyes. “Minho. Keep up, Jisung. As I was saying, it’s not that I don’t trust the guy. I just don’t think he should have so much access to secrets. I mean, he knows where we all _sleep_ now. So do Hyunjin and Jeongin. That’s too many people running around knowing too much. And I get why we’re including them in the Shark discussion, but a lot of this is,” he hesitated, glancing at Jisung before continuing, “sensitive information.”  
   
 Jisung bit his lip, a little uncomfortable. “He won’t say anything.”

 Woojin looked at him carefully. “He gave away information on the Sharks,” he pointed out. He didn’t seem accusing, just pointing out the logic of the situation.

 “That’s different,” Jisung said hurriedly. He took a deep breath, trying not to seem too eager to defend Minho. “I just mean that’s he doesn’t like the Sharks, never has.”

 Changbin leaned forward in his seat, examining Jisung. “Okay, but none of us really know him, except for you. Even then...” he trailed off, having made his point. “I’m just saying that he knows where the house is, plus Felix.” He lowered his voice a little. “If the Sharks find out that their missing member is not only in the gang, but living in the house–”

 “Two Americanos, a latte, and two cakes,” Nayeon said, interrupting their conversation. Changbin shuffled back in his seat as she set everything down on the table. She shifted her gaze around the table. “Can I get anything else for you guys?”

 Jisung cleared his throat. “Uh, no, this should be good. Thank you, noona.” He smiled at her as she left, then immediately turned back towards the other members. “Not that this will change anything, but I think it would interest you to know that Minho knew about the location of our house _before_ he started staying here.”

 Changbin’s eyes widened. “How?”

 Jisung shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he didn’t think anyone else knew about it, and that he wouldn’t say anything,” he told them, adding the last part for emphasis.

 Changbin’s face soured. “I don’t like that.”

 “Of course you don’t,” Jisung said, rolling his eyes. “You have more trust issues than he does. It doesn’t matter when he found out about it now, I mean he’s staying there.”

 “That’s my point. Jisung, what do you really know about him?”

 Jisung huffed, getting frustrated. “Not even two weeks ago everyone _wanted_ me to get close to Minho and get him on our side! Why is it that when I’m as close as I’m going to get to that, it’s suddenly such a bad thing?”

 Changbin glared at him, a silent gesture for him to stay quiet. “Two weeks ago, we thought it was possible for him to join the gang. Now that we know that’s not going to happen, we have no way to be sure where his loyalties lie.”

 “You don’t have to trust him,” Jisung said. “But you can trust me, right?” he asked, hopeful as he searched their eyes.

 It was quiet for a little longer than Jisung would’ve liked, but, finally, Woojin sighed. “Of course we trust you, Jisungie. We may not be happy with the situation right now, but we trust you. And Chan,” he said.

 Changbin nodded. “I get that you trust him, and that’s okay. But how much do you really know about him?”

 Jisung frowned. “Hyung, I don’t know. He’s not an open person and, let’s be honest, who in our world _is_? He probably has skeletons in his closet, yeah, but don’t we all?”

 “You’re right. We do. But Chan and I did some searching when you first met him, that night at the Underground. Obviously, we don’t know everything about the guy, but I think that we might know more than you,” Changbin said, choosing his words carefully as he watched Jisung for his reaction.

 Jisung’s breath caught in his throat. “What are you talking about?”

 “Chan didn’t want me to tell you,” Changbin sighed. “I can understand why, but I think you should know. But I don’t think I should be the one to tell you.”

 “Hyung, what do you know about him?” Jisung said, his voice almost demanding. He’d tensed in his seat, and he tried to calm himself down a little, knowing this wasn’t the time or place to get upset. Yet, he’d been right–there was always something that he wasn’t told.

 Changbin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jisung. Just–” he shared a look with Woojin. “Ask him about Younghyun.” His face was sad, serious.

 Jisung didn’t notice, but his hands were shaking. “Just tell me what happened? How bad is it? Who is Younghyun?”

 “I’m sorry, Jisungie. Just ask him about it. And if he doesn’t tell you...” Changbin stopped himself.

 Irritation bubbled up in his chest. “Is that it then? You invited me out to make me doubt him, right?” Jisung hissed.  
   
 Woojin’s eyes widened. “No, it’s not like that, Jisung. Yes, I wanted to have a conversation about it, and I wanted you to know everything about him, even if we don’t have all of the information. I just thought–”

 “You just thought I trusted him too much?” Jisung spat, glaring at him accusingly.

 Woojin sighed, closing his eyes. “Jisung, we’re just trying to look out for you. He’s not a Stray,” he said, his tone sharp. “And he won’t ever be a Stray. We just think you should be a little cautious–”

 “Cautious? Since when are we _cautious_? We’re Strays! Chan found all of us on blind faith! How is Minho different?” He caught himself, realizing he was raising his voice, then took a deep breath to steady himself.

 Changbin shook his head. “With all of us, the blind faith was mutual. Every single member of the Strays trusts Chan more than anything.”

 “Just because he doesn’t have blind faith in _you_ doesn’t mean–”

 “And what? He has blind faith in you?” Changbin countered.

 “No!” Jisung said hurriedly. “But he does trust me. Doesn’t that mean something?”

 “Guys, let’s not argue about this anymore,” Woojin finally interjected, pointedly looking at Changbin.  By this time, people were starting to fill into the café, and their conversation wasn’t something that should be overheard. Woojin watched a couple go by their table, smiling at them before he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I shouldn’t have let it go this far, or grilled you about it, I promise that I was just worried for you.”

 Jisung bit his cheek, turning away. “Well, as long as we’re being honest, tell me what you told him at breakfast yesterday,” he said, aware of the people around them but also itching to know.

 Woojin crossed his arms, nodding. “I told him that we protect our own,” Woojin began. “And then I told him that, as long as they were under the same roof as us, we would protect Hyunjin and Jeongin with our lives. Him, too, but I figured that was less important to him. It wasn’t really me trying to get him to join the Strays, but it wasn’t _not_ that either, if you get me. I just wanted him to know what it was like to be one of us.”

 A familiar disappointment settled in Jisung’s chest. “Is that why he looked so upset when I came back?”

 “I don’t actually think he was upset, surprisingly. He didn’t necessarily jump in excitement at the thought, but he looked... thoughtful? I don’t know, Jisung. I don’t want to give you false hope.”

 Jisung snorted. “Believe me, hyung. There’s no hope here.”

 Woojin frowned, but didn’t respond to that. Instead, he changed the subject. “So, other than Shark attacks and moody boys, how have you guys been?”

 Changbin and Jisung groaned simultaneously, causing Woojin to laugh. They spent another hour like that, talking about anything and everything, making each other laugh. Jisung hadn’t smiled that much in too long, and even though he still felt the weight of the conversation like a dark cloud looming over him, he felt happy and free in that moment, and that was all he could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Now that I'm caught up with my posting and writing, I should probably only update on the weekends  
> Also me when I finish a whole chapter in one day and barely edit it: HAha time to pOst
> 
> Really, I just love you guys and I want to update as soon as possible all the time sO here it is!!! I really love Woojin and Changbin and even though Changbin is kind of a hardass in this one he just cares a lot about Jisung uwu.
> 
> Also my multi-fandom ass also loves kang younghyun and Nayeon so here you go
> 
> Thank you for reading, all comments are greatly loved and appreciated and probably read, like, six times!!! <3
> 
> (PS I sincerely hope that this trust issue trope isn't getting too old or repetitive, and if it is I'm really sorry, it'll be over soOn) (that's not a hint what)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a day late to post for the comeback but Miroh is a bop and I'm still crying over 19 and Chronosaurus. I love literally everything about this album :') I'm still recovering from Minho's rap in Boxer and SEuNgmIn's rap and everyone's vocals and raps and I'm not okay wow this album :')))))
> 
> Anyways, here you go, hope you enjoy!!!!

Three days later, and Jisung had been entirely unable to catch Minho alone to talk to him. Even though they shared a room, it seemed that Minho was always either asleep when Jisung came in, or awake before him. Even when Jisung was in his room early in the night, Minho wouldn’t come until long after Jisung had fallen asleep.

 It wasn’t a big house. Jisung wasn’t sure how or why Minho was avoiding him. Honestly, it was beginning to get really frustrating. Everywhere he thought Minho was going to be, he wasn’t. Sometimes he was away with Hyunjin and Jeongin, other times he was talking to Chan, and sometimes it was like he wasn’t in the house at all, which made Jisung all the more nervous.

 All he’d been able to do in the past three days is wave at the older boy, somehow getting out the words, “Minho, can I–” before the latter gave him a tight-lipped smile, muttering something along the lines of “Not now, Jisung” before carrying on.

 The last time that happened being just about five minutes ago. Minho had barely looked at Jisung when he tried to get his attention before walking out of the house. Irritation welled up in him and he was about to storm out the door after him and demand that he listen to him, but Hyunjin tapped his shoulder at the last second.

 Jisung turned on Hyunjin, ready to argue, a whole speech planned about how he knew that it wasn’t his job to look after Minho but he still deserved to know a _little bit_ about what was going on, but Hyunjin just gave him a sad look and shook his head. “Not yet, Jisung,” Hyunjin said quietly. “Give him some time. I think he just needs to think things through.”

 Jisung huffed. “But it’s not really safe out there right now,” he said, trying to keep his voice from sounding like he was whining.

 “You think that matters to him?” Hyunjin laughed. “Listen, I know how you feel. I’ve wanted to protect him and keep him safe for years. But sometimes, you just have to do it quietly.”

 “What do you mean?”

 Hyunjin shrugged, walking into the living room and sitting out the couch, looking up at Jisung patiently. The latter raised his eyebrow, but took the hint and sat on the far end of the couch away from him. “I mean that you can’t protect everyone you care about all the time,” Hyunjin said. Jisung opened his mouth to speak, but Hyunjin cut him off, holding his hand up. “It’s not just you. I see it in Chan, too. In Woojin and Changbin. You guys are always so ready to jump off some bridge to catch someone else–”  
   
 “But–”

 Hyunjin held up a finger. “Let me finish. I’m not saying you _can’t_ protect anyone. Just... be smarter about it. More patient. Especially with Minho.”

 Jisung pouted, turning away. “Who said I cared about Minho?”

 Hyunjin gave him a knowing smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You know what, Han?” he began, and Jisung had to hold back a sarcastic laugh at the use of his surname. “I had my reservations about you–about everyone in the Strays, actually. But you’re not so bad.”

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

 Hyunjin laughed, and Jisung smiled a little bit at how good-natured and warm it was. “Thank you for looking out for him, though. It’s hard to do it on my own.” Hyunjin frowned. “I haven’t really been a great friend to him, lately. I’ve always been against violence, and any gang activities–no offense–and the closer he got to either of those the more I distanced myself.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrow. “But you’re still more accepting of us than he is?” he said. It was phrased as a statement, but they both knew it was a question.

 Hyunjin smiled sadly. “It’s not really my place to say anything,” he said carefully. “Minho and I... it was hard growing up. And we both dealt with things differently.” Jisung could tell that Hyunjin was being cautious, obviously trying not to give too much away. He looked thoughtful for a moment, but, finally, he shook his head. “I think you should talk to him yourself, he can tell you more than I can.”

 “I’ve been trying to,” Jisung said, sighing. “For three days. I swear he’s avoiding me, and I don’t even know how he’s managed it–I mean we literally share a room.”

 “That’s Minho for you,” Hyunjin said with a nod. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did at dinner the other night. I went to talk to him afterwards and I think... I think I did more harm than good. Honestly, I was trying to help. But I just reminded him of some stuff. And not good stuff.”

 Jisung bit his lip. “I’ll keep trying. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

 “Any time,” Hyunjin said genuinely. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Everyone here has already done so much for us, I’m trying to give back every way possible.”

 “You don’t need to do that,” Jisung said, smiling widely. “It’s nice having you and Jeonginnie around. It gives some life to the house.”

 Hyunjin snorted. “You think that, you should see Jeongin fucking wreck me at Mario Kart.”

 Jisung raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? I bet he wouldn’t stand a chance against me, or Seungmin for that matter.”

 Hyunjin stood up from the couch, a grin taking over his face. The seriousness of their previous conversation long forgotten. “Really? I bet your bark is worse than your bite, Stray.”

 Following his lead, Jisung jumped up, staring up into Hyunjin’s face with all the dignity he could muster due to their height difference. “Seungmin and I could take you guys. Anytime, anywhere. Easy.”

 Hyunjin cracked his knuckles playfully, glaring down at Jisung to make it painfully obvious that he was much taller. “How about now? Unless you realize that you made a big mistake in challenging the superior players,” Hyunjin said with a smirk.

 Jisung brushed his hair back dramatically. “You get Seungmin and Jeongin, and I’ll start the game,” he said steadily.

 Hyunjin laughed, hopping a little in excitement before he started out of the room. But before he could go, Jisung’s smile dipped, remembering that he’d wanted to ask the other boy something before their conversation had wandered. “Wait, Hyunjin.”

 Hyunjin stopped, turning around mid-laugh. “What, are you deciding to chicken out–oh,” he said, seeing the contemplative look on Jisung’s face. “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing,” Jisung assured him, trying to figure out the best way to word his question. “It’s just–I was talking to Changbin-hyung and he gave me a name, one that’s supposedly linked with Minho-hyung’s past.”

 Hyunjin froze, suddenly unable to meet Jisung’s eyes. Nevertheless, Jisung pressed forward. “Do you know the name Younghyun?” he asked, feeling foolishly hopeful.

 “I–” Hyunjin started, but he cut himself off. From where he stood, Jisung could tell that Hyunjin was tense, his whole body stock still except for a slight tremor in his hands. Hyunjin took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Jisung’s eyes. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” he said, his voice cracking. “Younghyun,” he whispered. “It really has been a long time.”

 “You know him?” Jisung said, trying to keep his voice quiet and understanding. He wanted to avoid hurting the other, who was obviously emotional about the name.

 Hyunjin nodded his head. He wasn’t looking at Jisung anymore, instead he was focused off into space, somewhere past the shorter boy, and he seemed to be reliving something, a small, sad smile playing over his face. “Yeah, I knew him,” he confirmed. “He was–” he took a deep breath. “He was like a brother to me–to us.”

 Jisung’s heart pounded at the thought of finally knowing something more. “ _Was_?” he prompted gently.

 Hyunjin’s head snapped up, and his face hardened. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I really can’t talk about it. Just... talk to Minho. It really should be his decision whether or not you know.”

 Jisung frowned, disappointed, but he nodded his head in understanding. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 “I’m not upset, at least not entirely,” Hyunjin said. He looked confused, like _he_ didn’t even know how he was feeling. “In a way, it’s kind of nice to think about him again. Just a little bittersweet,” Hyunjin trailed off and was quiet for another moment before he visibly broke himself out of the trance with a forced a smile. “Anyways, I’m going to go get Jeongin and Seungmin. We have a Mario Kart tournament to destroy you at.”

 Jisung mustered a small smile in response, his earlier competitive side lost in his sudden need to know more, along with his guilt about making Hyunjin upset. As the other boy walked out of the room to go find the two youngest, Jisung let out a long breath, collapsing into the couch.

 It seemed like the more he knew about Minho’s past, the less he actually knew. The most Jisung _actually_ knew is that Minho had shown up here three years ago, when he was seventeen. At the time, he’d been a dancer–which, apparently, was how he met Hyunjin in high school before he got here–but then that had quickly turned into street fighting. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, burrowing deeper into the couch. That didn’t make _total_ sense. Minho had to have had a background in fighting before he got here. Even though dancing requires some of the same skills–grace, speed–it’s impossible to magically get as good as Minho was. Between that and his hatred for gangs–Jisung froze. Did Minho have a background in a gang? Before he moved here? But that would mean he was in a gang before he was seventeen, which was pretty early, but not unheard of.  

 Frustrated, Jisung groaned and put his head in his hands. The likelihood of Minho actually telling him anything was probably low. They hadn’t actually known each other for that long, and their trust was still shaky, and that was on a good day. And Minho wasn’t exactly the sharing type. He could still try, but Jisung wondered it was best if he let it go. It wasn’t even his business anyways. If Minho wanted him to know anything, he’d tell him.

—

 By the end of their tournament, all four players discovered one thing: do not mess with Jeongin. He was _ruthless_. Even when he was on a team with Hyunjin, he didn’t hesitate to take the other boy out. It didn’t matter what game they played. They’d started easily, with a game as innocent as Mario Kart, and the youngest was still out for blood. By the end of three hours, they’d played several racing games, fighting games, and shooters. Jeongin won almost all of them. He’d only lost once–and that was when Seungmin decided to take the game seriously for once, because, being the tech nerd that he was, he was a force to be reckoned with, too.  
   
 Seungmin cracked his knuckles at the end of the shooter game, and Jisung clapped his back, happy that someone _finally_ beat the evil maknae.

 Jeongin, a good sport as always, grinned at Seungmin. “Man! That was so great! Someone finally stands a chance against me. We should play together more often.”

 Seungmin rolled his eyes, tossing his controller across the couch as he pulled his laptop closer to him. For the entirety of the games, he’d been going back and forth between the two screens. At some points, he wouldn’t even look up at the tv screen, but would be pounding away at the controller as he gave his full attention to his laptop. “Sounds good to me,” Seungmin laughed, not looking up. “I always enjoy beating cocky brats.” The words were light, holding no actual venom, and it caused the others around them to laugh.

 Jeongin stood up from where he sat on the floor, carelessly inching his way into sitting on the couch with the three older boys, right in between Seungmin and Jisung so he could look over Seungmin’s shoulder at the laptop. His eyes widened as he took in the screen, a mess of numbers and symbols that he couldn’t make sense of. “What’s that?”

 Jisung glanced over with a laugh. “Good luck, Jeongin. Coding is some difficult shit.”

 Seungmin whacked Jisung over the head without even looking up. “Language!” he scolded, laughing. “There’s a kid in the room.”

 “I’m not a kid,” Jeongin huffed, crossing his arms. His pouting was short lived, though, because in the next moment he was right back where he started–looking at Seungmin’s computer in awe. “Can you teach me how to do that, hyung?” he asked excitedly.

 “It would take a long time,” Seungmin said thoughtlessly.

 “That’s okay, I want to learn!” Jeongin exclaimed, careless of what his words implied.

 Seungmin froze, glancing up to look at Hyunjin. The latter gave both him and Jisung a cautious look, shaking his head a little. The three of them exchanged the same message–don’t talk about it. Jisung knew Jeongin was aware of their limited time together. He knew they couldn’t stay in the house forever, just until it was safe enough for them to move back. However, Jisung wasn’t entirely sure if Jeongin knew that that was probably the last he would see of them, for a while at least. He was too young to be too involved with any gang violence.

 Jisung frowned. At Jeonging’s age, he’d been a member of the Strays. Yet, when Jisung took in Jeongin’s hopeful smile and bright eyes, he couldn’t imagine him as a part of any gang. He was too young, too innocent. The Strays had been Jisung’s only choice, and, even though he didn’t regret joining them for a second, Jeongin still had other options, an opportunity that the world was giving him that it didn’t give Jisung.

 Despite this, Seungmin smiled softly at Jeongin, patting him on the head a little. “Yeah, I’ll teach you, Innie. But maybe later, okay? When we can start with something easier. This is hard stuff...”

 This seemed to satisfy Jeongin, who jumped up from the couch excitedly. “Thank you, hyungs! It was fun beating your asses. Anyways, I’m going to go hunt down Changbin-hyung. He’s always the most fun to bother.” With that, Jeongin ran out of the living room happily, easily navigating his way up the stairs.

 Jisung chuckled a little bit as he went, turning to the remaining two in the room. “He never ceases to surprise me. Does anything scare him?” he said.

 Hyunjin shrugged, a fond smile playing on his face. “Almost nothing. Kid’s had a hard life, you know? Before Minho moved in, he was all alone. It’s been better for the past couple of years, though. Jeonginnie has gotten so much more confident, stronger.” Hyunjin grinned, “And more cocky. Damn boy knows everyone’s whipped for him.”

 Jisung laughed out loud, patting Seungmin on the back. “He definitely has Seungmin tied around his little finger. Last time I tried to have him teach me coding, he told me to fuck off.”

 Seungmin swatted his hand away in mock irritation. “Jeongin’s a baby, I can’t tell him to fuck off.”

 “He literally just said ‘asses’, did you not hear that?” Hyunjin grinned. He pulled his feet up on the couch for comfort, smiling at Seungmin. “It’s okay. Once you admit you’re whipped for Jeongin, life becomes a lot easier. Believe me. Although, I’d watch your wallet if I were you.”

 They all laughed at that, and Jisung, growing tired, rested his head on Seungmin’s shoulder, finding comfort in the familiar feeling of laughing with friends. Hyunjin was a new addition, but Jisung was surprised to find that he was comfortable around him. As they continued to talk, he thought about Jeongin, too, and the way it had been so easy to fall into a sense of security and fun when playing games. Jisung felt young again with him. He frowned a little, a pit of sadness settling deep in his stomach. It was going to be hard to say goodbye to them, and Jisung was beginning to realize that he didn’t _want_ to.

 For a second, he cursed himself, hating that he got attached so easily, but, looking at the way Seungmin was laughing away with Hyunjin on the other side, despite the fact that Jisung had gone silent, Jisung saw that he wasn’t the only one. And maybe it wasn’t just them. Jisung saw it, too, in the way Changbin slid an extra slice of meat of his own plate to Jeongin’s the other night. The way Felix had shyly asked Hyunjin to teach him to dance, and then, later, when the two were a giggling, exhausted mess on the floor, Minho had rolled his eyes at them. But Jisung remembered seeing him smile as he walked away. Jisung saw it in the protective gleam in Chan’s eyes when he watched all of them interact. The same with Woojin, who had been cooking pancakes for breakfast two days in a row just because they were Jeongin’s favorites.

 Maybe he was getting dangerously attached, but he wasn’t the only one. They’d only been together for a short while, all nine of them under one roof, but he knew it couldn’t last. At some point, Jeongin would have to go back to his life–back to school–and Hyunjin would, too. Right now, both Jeongin’s school and Hyunjin’s work thought they were on a long vacation due to a “family emergency”. But they couldn’t stay away from their real lives forever, just until it was safe enough to go back. Even Woojin would probably have to leave. He didn’t live in the house, and when the looming threat of an attack was gone, he would probably go back to recruiting in the city. In about a week, Seungmin’s cast would come off, and he’d go back to his dorm and his college, visiting every so often like he used to. Jisung wondered if Changbin would move in now, to be with Felix–or if Felix would move out, when it was safe, in favor of Changbin’s quieter  apartment.

 And Minho. He knew he would still see him. But would it be the same? Or would it go back to how it was–fleeting, stolen moments they could speak. Jisung imagined seeing him at the underground, their eyes meeting. Minho would probably turn away. Jisung bit his lip. He was too well known, he might as well have the word Stray scrawled across his forehead. No matter what Minho said, it would be near impossible for them to see each other after this whole thing is over, not without Minho being labeled as a Stray. Maybe it would be better for them to be strangers again. But now, Jisung didn’t think he could do that.

 Despite the thoughts running through his head, Jisung felt his eyes drifting closed. Even Seungmin’s laughter didn’t keep him awake–the force of it shaking the shoulder that Jisung’s cheek rested against. Vaguely, he heard the front door open, then close, signaling that Minho was probably back. Jisung wanted to talk to him, but for now, he was tired, and everything else could just wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's not very eventful, and there's no Minsung interaction!!! But Plot Development and my love for Hyunjin kicked my ass so here you go!!!!! Hope you liked it!!!
> 
> Next chapter will be a little more... interesting ;)
> 
> ANyways, have a good day, thank you for reading, all comments are greatly appreciated!!!! I love you all :)))


	15. Chapter 15

 

Jisung was walking towards the staircase, absentmindedly sending a text to Felix on his phone, when he passed by Chan’s door, open a crack. He wouldn’t have noticed anything weird, but he heard the leader’s voice drift through the small space, and he slowed, confused.  
   
 “How’s it been going?”  
   
 “I don’t know, Chan. It’s hard. The Strays aren’t like the Sharks–everyone is a lot more secretive. More loyal.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, coming to a stop outside of the door on his way down the stairs. He knew that was Minho’s voice, and he knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop but he’d already heard a little bit, so he couldn’t resist leaning forward, listening to the rest of it.

 “I know. In a way, I’m really thankful for that. But I know that _someone_ has to be talking to the Sharks. I hate knowing that we have a traitor in our midst. I feel like the only people I can trust are in this house.”  

_Wait, what?_ Jisung froze, unsure. He knew he should leave now, but it was difficult for him to move his feet when all he wanted was to stay here, figure out what they were talking about.

 “I’ll keep trying, but the underground is getting messy lately. Last night, there were at least three unsolicited fights between Sharks and Strays. They had to be broken up, and it wasn’t pretty. The last one brought in _fifteen_ different people. If it keeps going like this, they’re going to have to shut the underground down for a while. There’s too much tension between the two gangs, it’s gone past just the missing member.”

 Jisung heard Chan sigh. “I’ll see what I can do with the Strays, but I don’t want to back down too much. The Sharks can’t think they’re winning. If we could just figure out which Strays are betraying us, it’ll be easier to plan an attack on the Sharks, as long as we’re sure that no one will pass on the information.”

 “Are you sure there’s a traitor?” Minho asked, his voice hesitant.

 “There has to be,” Chan replied. “Besides Felix, Seungmin was our best kept secret. No one knew he was in the Strays except Strays. But he was targeted. That’s what scares me.”

 Jisung bit his lip. He hadn’t thought about it that way before. Until now, he thought that the Sharks had just figured it out, but he hated how much sense this made. It’s always hard to keep up with the other Strays. It was a rather big gang, and, even though some of the lower members didn’t always know everything, they had a pretty good sense of what was going on. It was more than likely that someone could’ve released information about Seungmin–or more stuff, for that matter.

 “I’m sorry, Chan,” Minho said, and Jisung was surprised to hear that Minho’s voice sounded genuine. “If I find the asshole, you’ll know.”

 “Thank you, Minho,” Chan said.

 Jisung jumped when Chan opened the door, the two pairs of eyes instantly landing on Jisung, who gave them a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “So...” he said, trying to sound innocent.

 Minho raised an eyebrow, glancing at Chan. The latter looked amused more than anything, leaning against the doorway with a little laugh. “Leave it to Jisungie to eavesdrop on a conversation and figure out the master plan.”  
   
 Jisung pouted, puffing his cheeks indignantly. “I wasn’t eavesdropping!” he retorted. “The door was open and I heard Chan and...”

 “And decided to stay for the rest of the conversation?” Minho finished for him, a teasing smile playing on his face.

 “It’s okay, Jisungie,” Chan said, shaking his head. “Just don’t go telling anyone what you heard, alright? For obvious reasons.”

 Jisung nodded quickly. “Right. My lips are sealed. I won’t tell anyone,” he said, his voice confident and assuring. He stopped himself, thinking for a second, before he added on, “Except Seungmin, probably. And maybe Changbin and he’ll probably tell Felix if I don’t so...”

 Chan rolled his eyes. “We’re kind of trying to keep this quiet, Jisung,” he said, making an attempt at being stern but Jisung saw the glint of humor in his eyes.

 Jisung nodded again. “Of course,” he said, completely understanding. “So I’ll just tell Seungmin.”

 Even Minho laughed at this, shaking his head a little as he pushed past Jisung and back down the hallway towards their shared room. Jisung looked between where Minho was going and Chan, giving his leader an apologetic look as he turned and followed Minho down the hallway. Behind him, Chan was giving him a knowing smile, raising his eyebrows a little to tease him.

 Jisung flipped him off before he reached his own door, hearing cackling from behind him. Jisung caught the door just before it was shut, in time to watch as Minho tugged off the t-shirt henwore to bed the night before, digging to find a clean one. Jisung blinked, watching the muscles in his back shift as Minho leaned over, and he forgot why he was in here.

 Minho startled a little when he turned to find Jisung at the door, gently closing it behind him. Jisung watched as Minho slid the new shirt back on, trying to pretend like he was simply looking at the other’s side. The stitches had come out yesterday, but he still kept it bandaged while it healed fully. It seemed to be doing well. And Jisung was definitely only interested in Minho’s bare torso because of it.

 Jisung swallowed, tearing his eyes away from the small sliver of skin that flashed when Minho straightened his shirt, and forced himself to meet Minho’s eyes. Minho smirked a little, a challenging look on his face as he crossed his arms. Right. Jisung was in here to talk to him. It was important. Unsure of where to start, he said the first thing that came to mind. “So that’s what you’ve been doing,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but he cringed when the words came out more accusatory than anything.

 Minho raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

 Jisung huffed, already frustrated, and the conversation had barely started. “You’ve been trying to get information on the Strays. _For_ the Strays.”

 “It sounds weird when you put it like that,” Minho said bluntly. “But, yeah. Chan figured if I can get through to the Sharks, I could maybe figure out who in the Strays isn’t loyal.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows. “But you went to the underground. That’s still dangerous, there are Sharks there.”

 “Neutral territory,” Minho reminded him. “Even though it’s been more of a battleground lately. Doesn’t matter, though. I’ve been avoiding the Sharks.” As he said that last part, he looked down, away from Jisung’s piercing gaze, and the latter wondered if he was saying it to make him feel better.

 “That’s... good,” Jisung said.

 “What is it?” Minho asked, seeing the hesitation on Jisung’s face.

 Jisung shook his head, a little afraid to voice his thoughts. He knew that no matter what Minho was doing, he was going to be putting himself in danger. Weren’t they all? But something about Minho endangering himself for the sake of a gang that he didn’t even belong to didn’t settle well with Jisung. But he pushed those feelings away. Maybe he was just biased. He’d long accepted by now that Minho meant more to him than he should. “It’s nothing. But I have been wanting to talk to you,” he said, changing the subject carefully.

 Minho sighed, sitting on the end of Jisung’s bed. “I know.”

 “What–you _know_?” Jisung stuttered. “But you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!”

 Minho blinked at him. “I know,” he repeated.

 Jisung threw his hands up, frustrated. “Sometimes it’s really impossible to talk to you, you know that?” he said, glaring at Minho.

 Minho flashed him a grin that made his heart pound in his chest. “I _know_ ,” he said again, teasing. He leaned back on his hands, staring up at Jisung through his lashes in a way he _had_ to know was flirtatious.

 Jisung scowled. This wasn’t a time to be joking around, and he had a feeling that when he asked what he’d been wanting to for a days, their conversation wouldn’t be so lighthearted. He crossed his arms, staring at Minho. “So, will you talk to me?” he asked.

 Minho’s smile dipped a little, and he looked away. “I know what you want to know, Jisung.”

 “Then why avoid me?” Jisung countered, cautiously sitting down next to him. He was still afraid that Minho would jump up and leave the room, claiming there was somewhere else he needed to be, or deny him altogether.

 But Minho just took a deep breath, glancing at Jisung. “Because I wasn’t ready for it,” he said, his voice quiet.

 “Are you now?” Jisung asked without missing a beat.

 It was quiet for a long moment. Minho just stared at Jisung, his eyes roaming over the expanse of the younger’s face before he closed them. “I’m not sure,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m scared of what you’ll think of me afterwards.” He laid back on the bed, facing the ceiling, like it was the only way to avoid looking at Jisung.

 Jisung felt the urge to touch Minho–hold his hand, card his fingers through his hair. He looked so vulnerable, scared, that he wanted more than anything to comfort him, but he stayed still, his fingers tapping against his own leg lightly as a distraction. “I don’t think anything you tell me will change how I feel about you,” Jisung whispered. The words hung in the air, and Jisung realized too late that that wasn’t exactly what Minho had said–or meant. But he didn’t regret saying them, or watching the light flush on Minho’s face when he avoided Jisung when he tried to make eye contact.

 Jisung could tell Minho wanted to ask a question–maybe something along the lines of _“And how do you feel about me?”_ – but he furrowed his eyebrows instead, thinking. After another couple of seconds, he closed his eyes, and Jisung thought it almost looked like a delayed flinch. “Kang Younghyun was my best friend,” he said, and his voice barely carried to Jisung. “Hyunjin told me you asked about him.”

 Jisung watched, patient as Minho kept his eyes closed, swallowing deep breaths. “He was a really great guy. For the longest time, he was the only person in my life that cared about me,” Minho laughed a little, but it was sad. “We met when I was ten. He was the son of another family at a meeting that my dad dragged me to. The rest is history, I guess.”

 Jisung’s heart began to pick up, and his stomach twisted in fear of where he was going.

 Minho brought his hands up, pressing his palms to his eyes. “He died three years ago. Right before I left Seoul,” he said, finally, choking on the last words.

 Jisung wanted to hush Minho, pull him close and tell him that he didn’t have to tell the rest of the story, that he could stop and never have to think about it again. But he kept silent, heart breaking as he watched Minho pull his hands away from his face. He wasn’t crying, but his jaw was set and his eyes were sad. He kept glaring at Jisung’s ceiling stubbornly.  
   
 “You want to know why I hate gangs so much, Jisung?” he asked, bitter. Jisung knew it was a rhetorical question, so he bit back his response. “It’s because I was in one. When I was only sixteen, too. Younghyun _told_ me it was a bad idea to join, but I was young, reckless, rebellious. I hated my father, I never saw my mother–what better way to get their attention, right?

 “Hyunjin, too. He’s never liked gangs. But he grew up in a different world than me and Younghyun.” Minho sat up quickly, finally looking at Jisung again. His eyes were wide, serious. “I’ll tell you the story,” he said, slowly, like he could take the words back if he suddenly regretted them. “But to do it, I have to tell you something that now only Hyunjin knows.”

 Jisung’s heart pounded, and his head was whirling. “Okay,” he whispered.

 Minho shook his head. “I’m serious,” he hissed back, lowering his voice. “No one else can know this. Except–I think the Sharks suspect it.”

 Jisung’s heart stopped suddenly–scared, confused. “What?”

 “I–I’m the son of a big CEO in Seoul,” Minho said, watching Jisung carefully for a reaction. “When I ran away and moved here at seventeen, I changed my name. My father looked for me for a couple of months, but that’s only because he was worried about me telling company secrets.” His face darkened. “And there were a lot of them. I wonder how the people of Seoul would feel if they found out their favorite business man abused his gay son,” Minho said with a bitter laugh.

 Jisung’s heart clenched, and this time, he did reach forward. He grabbed Minho’s hand. For a second, he thought Minho was going to push him away, but the other boy simply readjusted their hands in the space between their bodies on the bed, then intertwined their fingers. He sighed a little, the sound drawn out and wistful. “It’s okay,” Minho said, giving Jisung’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t think my dad really cares where I went, as long as I keep my mouth shut.”

 “What happened, though?” Jisung prompted gently, rubbing his thumb over the back of Minho’s hand in an attempt to comfort him.

 Minho shook his head. “When my father found out about the gang, he was pissed. I was barely a part of it–I gave them a false name, and the most I’d really done is learn to fight and smoke and annoy my father. But when–” Minho’s voice stuttered a little bit, but he kept going, despite the tension that Jisung could feel, even through their connected hands. “But when the gang found out who I really was, it was a lot different than my father’s reaction. He’d yelled a little, locked me in my room for a couple of days. But the gang–they tied me to a chair.  Demanded I tell them anything that could help them–where in the house the safes were, the combinations, company secrets. When I didn’t tell them, they began to hurt me.” Minho stopped for a second, using his free hand to tug at the shoulder of his shirt and pull it down, revealing the long white scar on his right shoulder. “You asked what this was,” he said quietly, then pulled his collar into place again. He looked disgusted with it.

 Jisung could barely believe it. He felt sick. “That’s fucking bullshit,” he hissed. He was angry–a lot angrier than he’d been in a while, but he continued to gently caress the side of Minho’s thumb with his own, tempted to just pull the whole hand into his lap and play with his fingers.

 Minho swallowed, then nodded. “I didn’t tell them anything, though. I knew it would ruin my father, and as much as I hated him, I didn’t want that. So they took the next best option. They called him, demanding he pay ransom. At first, my father laughed and refused to pay. After about a day or so, I could tell he was going to cave, beginning to worry that I might have too much shit on him. On the same day he agreed to pay the ransom, someone broke into the room I was being held in and untied me.”  
   
 “Younghyun?” Jisung guessed softly.

 “Younghyun,” Minho confirmed. “I begged him to leave, that it was too dangerous for him to sneak me out because there was no way I could walk on my own. I told him that my father was going to pay ransom.” A single tear escaped Minho’s eye, but he ignored it. “He wouldn’t leave without me. He said he didn’t care, that he wouldn’t let me stay there a second longer, and then he helped me up and out the door.

 “We almost made it, too. Hyunjin was waiting with a car a building over, and we were nearing the exit, but we were caught, and I was in too bad of a condition to run,” Minho’s voice had dropped considerably. “We fought to the best of our abilities, Younghyun trying to keep me behind him the whole time. We were out the door and almost to the car when I heard the first gunshot. I remember only acknowledging how _loud_ it was, like it was in my head, ringing through my skull. I checked myself, and I remember the relief that took over when I realized I hadn’t been shot–and Younghyun was still moving beside me, so I thought he was fine, too. But then there were three more shots, then Younghyun pushing me down into the back seat of a car, then another two shots and the door closed and Hyunjin was cheering, driving faster than I’d ever seen, and I dared to smile but Younghyun was bleeding.” The words had been tumbling out so fast that Minho had to stop for a second to breathe, a couple more tears spilling from his eyes silently. “He was bleeding so much, and I didn’t know what to do except put pressure on it. I screamed at Hyunjin, telling him to go to the hospital and I don’t think he really understood what was going on until it was too late. Younghyun never made it to the hospital, he died in the back seat of the car.”

 Jisung felt some of his own tears, his grip on Minho’s hand tightening. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 Minho shook his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like it was your fault. I was stupid. I let my anger for my father blind me. I never should’ve joined a gang. They turned on me the second they could, why was I even surprised?” he laughed bitterly, gently pulling his hand from Jisung’s grasp to wipe his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s still my fault–if I hadn’t been so stupid, he would still be alive.”

 Jisung bit back his anger at the gang, trying to stay calm for Minho. “No, it’s not your fault,” he said fiercely. Minho blinked at him, the look on his face telling Jisung that he didn’t believe him. “ _It is not your fault_ ,” he repeated, the words coming out sharp, passionate. Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You put your trust in the wrong people, but even that isn’t your fault. Hyung, I know that gangs have a bad reputation, and, yeah, a lot of them are bad. But it doesn’t matter because when you’re a member, you’re family,” he said. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. They betrayed you, that’s not your fault.”

 Minho shook his head quickly. “It’s not even just them, Jisung. I should’ve known. Look at Felix with the Sharks,” he said, his tone almost pleading, like he needed Jisung to understand. “Even the Strays–someone betrayed you! It doesn’t matter what gang or who, someone is always going to be out for blood. I knew that before I got mixed up in it, but I did anyways. And it’s what got Younghyun killed.”

 “Lee Minho,” Jisung said, his voice soft but almost threatening, dark in an important, insistent way. “I haven’t known you for long, and there’s very little I know about you. I know that you’re an amazing fighter, and probably an even better dancer. I know that you don’t trust anyone, but you have a surprising soft spot for a teenage boy with braces and your old friend, and you would do anything for them. I know that even though you drive me absolutely crazy, you’re still funny and probably the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen, and somehow I earned your trust. I know that you’re a fighter, and you’re strong, but, more importantly, you’re a _good person_. And I know without a doubt that it’s not your fault he died.”

 Minho was quiet for a long moment, shocked, as he stared at Jisung. His mouth was hanging open a little, his hands shaking. Once his eyes began to well up with tears, Jisung reached his hand out carefully, hesitating. “Hyung, can I touch you?” he whispered. He wasn’t sure why he asked, he’d already been holding his hand, but his heart skipped a beat when Minho nodded, the permission sending his heart reeling. Maybe Minho wanted to be close to him as bad as Jisung did. Jisung captured his hand again, using it to pull the other boy forward and into his arms. He crumbled into Jisung with little argument, fitting his head into his shoulder. Still, he didn’t cry, but as Jisung slid a hand over his back, reaching up to card his fingers through his hair, he felt the other boy tremor.

 “I–when he died–Hyunjin didn’t talk to me for months,” Minho whispered into Jisung’s neck.

 Jisung wasn’t entirely sure if Minho had meant to say that, or if he was supposed to hear it, but he shushed the older boy, pulling him impossibly closer. “Hyunjin forgave you a long time ago, hyung,” he whispered. “Forgive yourself.”

 Minho let out a choked sound, but he nodded, then pulled back to look at Jisung. His eyes were red, but for the most part, he looked better than he had in a while, like he’d just gotten a large weight off his shoulders. He smiled a little, though it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Thank you, Jisungie,” he said.

 Jisung reached up, cupping Minho’s cheek with a hand and brushing his thumb over it before he pulled away, flashing him his brightest smile. “Of course.”

 Minho took a shaky breath. “I just–I think the Sharks know. About my father, who he is. I think Chan’s been right in thinking that there are bigger and deeper reasons for them to want me on their side.”

 Jisung nodded, frowning. “It’s not impossible,” he said, watching for Minho’s reaction. When the latter just frowned, Jisung asked, “How much do you think they know?”

 Minho shook his head. “I have no idea. But you found out about Younghyun–I’m guessing from Chan or Changbin–so I don’t know how much more the Sharks–or anyone, for that matter–could know about me.”  
           
 “I’m sorry,” Jisung said, biting his lip. “Who else knows?”

 “Don’t apologize, I’m glad you know,” Minho said calmly. “And just Miss Yoon as far as I know. She was a friend of my mother’s before our family had a falling out with her’s, so I stayed with her for a while when I ran. That’s how I saw you at the café everyday.”

 “Does Nayeon know?” Jisung asked. He kept the piece of information about how Minho saw him at the café, knowing he’d want to talk about it at a different time but not just yet.

 Minho shook his head. “I don’t think so. I never met her, she started working for her grandmother long after I left,” Minho said.

 “I doubt that many people know much of anything,” Jisung said, rather confidently. “Probably just suspicions. Rumors.”

 Minho laughed a little, softly. “Yeah, I just don’t know what to do about the Sharks,” he sighed, furrowing his eyebrows, obviously lost in thought.

 “Hey,” Jisung said, trying to regain some of his attention. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with them, or how to reassure you, but know that as long as you’re here with us, it doesn’t matter who you once were. Yes, we wanted to know more about you, but that was mostly Chan and Changbin’s worries for the safety of the gang. We don’t care about the rest of it. I promise you that no one here would use that information against you.”

 Minho visibly relaxed, nodding a little and trying to smile. “I’ve been trying to be better with the Strays,” he admitted. “It’s just hard.” He frowned for a second, thinking. “I’m not really sure I trust everyone here yet, but I’m willing to work on it while I’m staying here.”

 Jisung couldn’t help but grin wider, but Minho remained serious. He laughed a little. “I don’t know what’s more terrifying,” Minho whispered. “Not trusting everyone or knowing that Hyunjin and Jeongin are caught up in this.” He paused, looking up to meet Jisung’s eyes slowly. “That _you’re_ caught up in this.”

 Jisung’s breath hitched, and he wished they were still touching. He tried to take his feelings and settle them, push them away so he didn’t have to deal with them now. Minho was concerned over his friends, and Jisung should be happy that he was included in that, that he’d finally made his way into some part of the other’s life. He didn’t need his feelings getting in the way of that right now. “Hyunjin and Jeongin are safe, hyung. They’ll stay here until this over, and the house always has someone who can protect them here. They’ll be okay,” Jisung promised.

 “And what about you?” Minho countered, the words coming out sharp. He blinked after he said it, like he hadn’t meant for it to come out so hurried or desperate.

 Jisung didn’t even flinch, he just tilted his head a little, trying to smile for Minho. “Me? I’ll be okay. I know what I’m doing.”

 Minho shook his head quickly. “No,” he hissed. “I don’t–I know that I can’t do anything but I’m–Jisung I’m _scared_. Even when all this ends–what, I leave? And then what? I can’t know that you’ll ever be safe,” he said. His eyes were wide, honest, his eyebrows furrowed, like he needed Jisung to understand, but didn’t really understand himself. “I don’t think I can lose you, Jisung,” he breathed. “Not anymore. Not you.”

 Jisung’s heart pounded, the mention of Minho leaving making him feel sick with anxiety. “You _won’t_ lose me, Minho,” he responded fiercely. “Our world isn’t the safest,” he admitted. He ducked his head, making sure he Minho was looking him directly in the eyes. “But I’ll stay safe, yeah?”

 Minho’s eyes were glassy, and he licked his lips. Jisung followed the action, feeling, not for the first time, like he’d been struck by lightning, his stomach twisting with want. When he looked back up at Minho, he realized that the latter had seen everything–probably watched his eyes trace his lips desperately. “Jisung, can I–” Minho whispered, suddenly distracted. His eyes darted down to look at Jisung’s lips as well, his hand tightening around Jisung’s with a purpose. 

 “Minho–” Jisung responded. He hadn’t been aware of how close Minho had gotten, how he felt the other’s exhale over his own lips. Could Minho hear his heartbeat? How fast it was? It was so loud, he was sure that the whole house had to be able to hear it. He wanted more than anything to move the last couple of centimeters–to rid them of the space between them, to never have space ever again. He closed his eyes, hating himself as he shifted back ever so slightly. “I don’t think–”

 Minho seemed to jolt back a little, as if he’d been broken from a trance. Jisung’s heart ached when he saw the flash of hurt in Minho’s eyes before it disappeared, and Minho settled his expression into something neutral, blinking away any other emotion. He swallowed, and Jisung watched his throat as he felt his heart tear, regret already digging deep into his chest. He didn’t want to move away–but he realized it was for the best. He couldn’t keep Minho this close forever. He said it himself, he was going to leave and he would have to stay neutral and he couldn’t have gang ties. Jisung would just hold him back from that, and kissing him would make it hurt so much more. They could still be friends–acquaintances?–but anything more and it would be too hard. It was already too hard. “I’m sorry,” Jisung said, ducking his head so Minho couldn’t see the tears that were collecting in his eyes. “I can’t. You don’t understand–I can’t lose you either, Minho. And this–I just can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight, hating the way it felt like he was choking and the fact that he couldn’t hide his feelings.

 Jisung felt a hand on his chin, soft, careful, and at first, he resisted it, not wanting to see the look on Minho’s face. “Jisungie, look at me,” he heard Minho murmur, gentle but confident, like the hand that was slowly making its way to hold his cheek.  
   
 Jisung shook his head rapidly, a tear falling.

 “Please look at me, Jisung,” Minho repeated, his tone still gentle, patient.

 When Jisung finally looked up, the neutral expression that Jisung had been scared of was gone, and Minho’s eyes had softened. “Is that it? You think you’re going to lose me?”

 Again, Jisung shook his head, biting his lip a little to keep himself calm. A couple more tears slid down his face. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to admit the thing that had been haunting him for the past couple of days to Minho. He would think that Jisung was weird or clingy or over attached.  
   
 “Jisungie,” Minho said, patient and smiling like they had all the time in the world and Jisung wanted to _scream._ “Please talk to me.”

 Jisung breathed out shakily. “I–I don’t think I’m going to lose you,” he whispered. He swallowed, forcing his voice to be louder. “I just can’t–can’t have you like this just have it be taken from me when you leave.”

 Minho raised his eyebrows. “When I leave?” he asked carefully. His eyes were still wide, caring, and Jisung hurt so bad.  
   
 “When you go back to your life,” Jisung clarified. “You don’t want gang ties, and I understand that. It’s for the best anyways, because you could be in danger being close to me or the Strays. I know that we’ll still–still _see_ each other, but I can’t–” Jisung looked into Minho’s eyes, _needing_ him to understand.

 Minho waited a minute until Jisung was done, eyes sad. “Jisungie,” he sighed. “Come here.”

 Jisung glanced at him warily, unmoving.

 “Trust me, please,” Minho said, and that was all it took before Jisung melted into Minho’s arms, and, despite the fact that he was softly crying, the feeling of his arms around him filled him with a sense of security and relief. Somehow, Minho maneuvered them so they were laying down on his bed, Jisung’s face buried into Minho’s neck as the older hummed to him quietly, running a hand through his hair. “Sh,” he whispered, his free hand trailing down Jisung’s arm, then back up in a comforting movement.

 Jisung fit his arms around Minho, pulling him closer. “I don’t want you to leave me,” he whispered, feeling safe as he hid his face in Minho’s chest.

 “I won’t leave you, Jisung,” he responded. “I told you I couldn’t lose you, didn’t I?”

 “Yes, but–”

 “No,” Minho cut him off. “It was the truth. I watched you go once,” he said softly. “That day in the café, you left with Chan and you didn’t come back. I always wondered what had happened. I always thought about you, and I didn’t know why.”

 Jisung tensed. “You did?”

 Minho hummed in affirmation, and Jisung felt the vibration in his own chest. “I think a part of me will always regret not going to you. I had so many chances,” Minho said wistfully. “But I was still too scared of the world, mad at it for taking so much from me. I was scared of letting someone into my life. I still am.”

 “Minho–”

 “No, let me finish. It doesn’t matter anymore. I tried not to let you in, Jisung. When I found out you were in a gang–that it really was you in that alley, I was mad. I don’t even know who I was mad at. Maybe Chan for bringing you into the gang life, maybe you for joining it.” He paused, and Jisung was beginning to calm down, settling his head on Minho’s chest to listen, to feel his words. “But then I realized I didn’t have a right to be mad. Yes, I hated gangs, but I never actually went to you, did I? Chan did. I should be grateful to him,” Minho laughed a little. “I know you’re happy here. You found a family, a home. That’s more than I could’ve ever offered to you back then.”

 Jisung blinked up at Minho and he returned his gaze with so much care that Jisung’s heart broke all over for a different reason. He wasn’t the only one who’d been upset about parting. Jisung could feel Minho’s heart beating beneath him, and he smiled a little at how fast it was beating.

 “And yes, I still am scared of letting you into my life,” Minho said, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching and his breath flitted across Jisung’s lips. “But now I’m even more scared of my life without you in it.” His lips ghosted across Jisung’s with each word, and Jisung shivered.

 “Please,” Jisung breathed.

 Minho bit Jisung’s bottom lip playfully, gentle. “Please, what?” he said, and Jisung felt him smile.

 “Kiss me,” Jisung said, hating how his voice whined and his hands shook and his heart pounded but all of that left his head when Minho’s lips finally, _finally_ brushed against his. Once, twice, then more firmly. Jisung kissed back slowly, reaching one hand to run through the hair on the back of Minho’s neck. He received a pleased hum at this, which prompted him to tug on it a little, the other hand bunched in the front of Minho’s shirt.  
   
 Minho growled a little, rolling them so Jisung was on his back and Minho hovered over him. He pulled back just enough to watch Jisung chase his lips, laughing when Jisung glared at him. He dipped down again, pressing their bodies close as their lips met, a little messy, hurried. Jisung gasped when he felt Minho’s tongue on his lip, and Minho took the opportunity to slip it into his mouth. Minho grabbed one of Jisung’s hands, fitting their fingers together and slowing their pace, his message clear– _they had time_.

 Jisung whined when Minho pulled away, pressing one last close-mouthed kiss to Jisung’s lips and laying down again, drawing him close. Jisung pouted up at Minho, a little out of breath, causing Minho to laugh lightly. Jisung thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

 “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Minho said.

 “I think I do, actually, have an idea,” Jisung said bluntly.

 Minho laughed again, pecking Jisung once more, like he couldn’t resist it. “Rest,” he said softly. “You need it.”

 Jisung sighed, but he laid his head down. His eyes caught on the skin of Minho’s shoulder–his shirt had slid just the slightest bit, and Jisung saw the very edge of the scar peeking out from the fabric. A little entranced, he slid his hand up to pull the collar of Minho’s shirt back, tracing the scar with a finger. He felt Minho’s breath hitch, felt his eyes on Jisung, watching. Jisung leaned forward, placing a single, lingering kiss over the scar. “You’re beautiful, Minho,” he whispered, feeling Minho tense. Jisung let his head fall once again, laying on Minho’s chest.

 “Rest, Jisungie,” Minho whispered, his hold tightening ever so slightly around Jisung, protective. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here you go, the long awaited chapter and back story and ;), I hope it doesn't disappoint!! 
> 
> I (think?) like how this turned out, but I'm not sure if it's too soon? It might be, but there are other events that are coming up and this might be important to them? I don't know, but tell me what you think!!!
> 
> (I also kind of hope Minho isn't too out of character here????)


	16. Chapter 16

“Come on, Jeongin-ah, stop pouting, you should be happy for me,” Seungmin said, grinning at his legs as he stretched them out on the couch.

 “I’m not pouting!” Jeongin responded, jutting his lip out in what was, in fact, a pout, drawing laughs from several of the boys around him. “I am happy for you! I just...” he trailed off, staring forlornly at Seungmin’s cast. “I worked really hard on that.”

 Seungmin barked out a laugh, examining the cast on his leg carefully. “Jeongin this took you twenty minutes and a permanent marker,” he said.    

 “Twenty-five minutes!” Jeongin hissed. “ _And_ I killed the permanent marker, which was one of Chan-hyung’s...”

 Seungmin pulled his phone out of his pocket, snapping a couple pictures of the art over his cast. “You’re right, I’m sorry. This masterpiece should most definitely be saved, they should put it in a museum.”

 “Now you’re just being mean,” Jeongin said, frowning. But Jisung could tell by the way his eyes lit up as he went through the pictures Seungmin had taken that he was happy with the compromise. “Okay, you can get your cast off, but you can never delete these pictures, promise?”

 Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I promise.”

 “Jeongin-ah what even are these pictures _of_?” Hyunjin asked, casually taking a seat on the couch next to Seungmin and leaning forward to inspect the shaky lines around the cast. He frowned a little at one in particular, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Is this a slice of pizza with a face?”

 Jeongin smirked wickedly. “That’s Changbin-hyung,” he said, flashing his best smile to the boy in question, who was leaning against the wall.

 At the sound of his name, Changbin perked up, glaring at the cast as he took in the image of his own face.

 Hyunjin didn’t even blink, just continued to follow the doodles. “Okay, but what is he holding onto?” he asked.

 Jeongin huffed, irritated. “Isn’t it obvious? Not what, _who_. He’s holding hands with Felix-hyung!”

 Felix, who was sitting in the chair nearest to the couch, flushed, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

 Changbin’s eyes widened a fraction, and he finally pushed himself off of the wall to actually look at the doodles. His eyes narrowed in on the doodle of him and Felix holding hands and he frowned.

 Jisung watched his face, worrying that he would say something that would upset the younger, and was about to murmur a warning, but all he got out was “Hyung–” before the older boy was whipping out his own phone to take a picture of the doodle.

 “I love it, Jeongin-ah,” he said decisively, taking four separate pictures.

 Jeongin was glowing. “See, _he_ likes it,” he said, shooting a not-so-subtle look at Hyunjin.

 “I never said I didn’t like it!” Hyunjin said defensively. “I’m just not sure I _get_ it. Who are the rest of these people?”

 Jeongin smiled proudly, sliding off the couch so he could get a closer look at the cast in order to describe each picture in detail. “Well here’s you,” he said, pointing to a face that _kind of_ looked like Hyunjin. “You’re dancing, see.” He traced the movements of the stick figure.

 “Did you make me _dab_?” Hyunjin asked, his voice full of fond disgust, something Jisung didn’t even know could work together.

 “You used to, hyung,” Jeongin said, his voice almost scolding. “Okay, now let me _finish_. This is you dabbing, and Seungmin-hyung and I are here, laughing at you. This is Woojin-hyung making breakfast–he’s singing a girl group song, which I know he does when he makes breakfast for us and thinks no one is in the kitchen.”

 Jisung raised his eyebrows, exchanging a look with Changbin that said they were _never_ going to let that piece of information go.

 “And here’s Channie-hyung!” Jeongin said happily. “He’s my favorite of the pictures, it was really hard to get right.”

 Jisung looked closer at what looked like a smeared blob on the cast. “What’s he doing, Jeongin-ah?” he asked carefully, unable to tell past the random black lines and scribbles.

 “He’s watching everyone in all of the other pictures, _duh_ ,” Jeongin said, like it was obvious. “See? He’s smiling.”

 “Where am I?” Jisung asked, eyeing the last picture that Jeongin had yet to explain, kind of hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was going to be.

 Jeongin pointed at it proudly, and Jisung almost regretted asking. “This is you and Minho-hyung,” he said. “You’re arguing, like always.”

 Jisung’s stomach tugged. Jeongin had a point–they did argue a lot, but the rest of the gang didn’t really know about the rest of it. Jisung’s mind flashed to a couple days previous, the feeling of falling asleep in Minho’s arms, surrounded by warmth, and waking up to the older’s face, calm and beautiful in his sleep. Jisung thought that he’d never be able to sleep alone again. He blushed a little, hoping none of the other members could tell where his mind had just gone, forcing himself to focus on the picture. He narrowed his eyes at the speech bubbles Jeongin had drawn, the ink blending together so Jisung couldn’t make out the characters. “Wait, what are we saying?”

 Jeongin grinned impishly, and Hyunjin snickered from his other side, apparently already knowing. “Oh, this one I know,” Changbin laughed evilly, snapping another picture of that doodle. “You’re admitting your undying love for each other. See the hearts?”

 Jisung flushed, punching Changbin in the arm harder than necessary. “Fuck off,” he hissed. “That is _not_ –”

 “You don’t like it, hyung?” Jeongin asked, pouting once again, and even though Jisung _knew_ it was fake and the younger was messing with him, he caved.

 “I–of couse I like it,” Jisung stammered.

 Jeongin gave him a big smile. “You know, come to think of it, I never did show this to Minho-hyung...”

 “Oh, you little shit, come here,” Jisung hissed, lunging off the couch to tackle the youngest, who made a move to scramble away. “Felix, help me here,” he said, and, without hesitation, Felix let out a giggle, easily joining the tickle fight.

 “Hyunjin-hyung!” Jeongin called through his laughs. “Help me!”

 Jisung turned to raise an eyebrow at the boy, receiving a look of amusement. Without looking away, Hyunjin laid back on the couch, saying, “You got yourself into this one, Jeongin-ah.”

 “Changbin-hyung! Seungmin-hyung!” Jeongin tried, desperate as Felix pinned his arms down and Jisung began to tickle him.

 “Yeah, I’m about to get my cast off, there is no way I’m breaking something else,” Seungmin said nonchalantly, right about the time Changbin added, “And I don’t take sides in tickle fights,” through a laugh, which really meant he was taking a side, enjoying the youngest’s suffering.

 Five minutes later, Jeongin was laying on the ground, still laughing even though Felix and Jisung had drawn back, done attacking. “You guys are the worst,” Jeongin said through a giggle, trying to catch his breath.

 Felix smiled, eyes twinkling. “You love us, Innie,” he said, ruffling his hair as he stood up from the floor and stretched out his limbs. Jisung bit back another laugh as he watched Changbin’s eyes follow the movement.

 Jisung sat up, too, leaning his back against the couch. Apparently, Jeongin found the floor at least a little comfortable, because he made no move to get up. He simply sprawled out more, his arms stretched on either side of him. “You know, for a gang, you guys are soft as shit.”

 “Hey, babies aren’t allowed to swear,” Hyunjin chastised, reaching forward to kick the boy on the floor with a laugh. “Where did you learn to swear like that?”

 Jisung laughed, nudging the youngest as well. “Yeah, where the fuck did you learn to swear–” he was cut off by Hyunjin hitting him over the head with a glare.

 “ _Anways_ , as I was saying, I never would have thought that gang members would get into tickle fights,” Jeongin said thoughtfully. “Or make each other breakfast. I don’t know, it’s weird.”

 Jisung rested his head back so he could look up at Seungmin with a small smile. “I guess we’re not like most gangs,” he said, and Seungmin smiled back down at him. “I mean, it’s not possible for everyone in the Strays to be as close as we are–but everyone in this house,” he shot a look at Felix, who was staring at the floor a little sadly. Jisung urged him to look up, and when he did because he’d paused, Jisung said, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”

 Felix looked away, but he was smiling, and maybe his eyes had watered a little, but Jisung wouldn’t mention it. “Me too,” Seungmin said.

 “Me too,” Changbin chorused easily.

 “Me too,” Felix said, his voice soft but strong.

 “Hyungs?” Jeongin asked, his voice hesitant. “Does that–does that include me? And Hyunjin and Minho-hyung?”

 Everyone in the room froze, and Hyunjin shot Jisung a nervous look. He was older, maybe more aware of the numbered days they all had together before they had to get back to their real lives, but their was a glimmer of curiosity that Jisung saw–only for a second, before he looked away, maybe afraid of what Jisung would say.  
   
 Jisung didn’t _know_ what to say. He knew he would do anything for Jeongin–just to keep his smile on his face, and he was getting closer to Hyunjin, wanted nothing more than for him to be safe and protected and to beat his ass at Mario Kart, and Minho–Jisung wasn’t sure he could afford even let himself think about the older right now. He knew how he felt, but it scared the shit out of him, and their relationship was still somewhat rocky, unknown.

 Jisung didn’t need to respond, because Changbin’s voice filled the room, confident and comforting. “Of course, Jeonginnie. You’re in the house, right? Of course that includes you.”  
   
 Next to him, Hyunjin tensed.

 Jeongin blinked up at Changbin, scrambling to sit up. It was weird to see the youngest so serious, insecure. “But we won’t be here forever,” Jeongin said. “We’ll leave when it’s safe to return to our lives, right?”

 Changbin bit his lip, eyes flickering to Jisung. “Yeah,” he said softly, kneeling down next to the youngest and pulling his knees to his chest. “But that doesn’t matter. I moved out of the house a couple of years ago,” he said, watching Jeongin’s eyes widen in surprise. “I know, you wouldn’t believe it, because I ended up spending all of my time here anyways. But I did. And it didn’t change anything. I knew I could still rely on everyone here. Woojin-hyung, too, yeah? He doesn’t live here, but he’s one of us and we look after him just as he does us.”

 Jeongin frowned a little. “But I’m not in the gang. I’m scared that when we leave you guys will forget about us, forget about me,” he admitted.

 Jisung’s heart broke a little bit, putting the pieces together finally. Minho and Hyunjin were all Jisung had in the world. His mom was never home and when she was, it wasn’t to see him. Jisung knew what that felt like–the person who’s supposed to love you the most in the world, to care for you when you need it not being there for you. But in Jisung’s case, it was different. He was kicked out and he found a home, a family. He couldn’t imagine feeling like your own mother _forgot_ about you.

 “I don’t think we could ever forget you, Innie,” Seungmin said, smiling softly at the boy on the floor.

 Jeongin sniffed, nodding. “All I’ve had is my hyungs,” Jeongin said, voicing Jisung’s thoughts. He looked up gratefully at Hyunjin, who gave him an encouraging smile. “Minho-hyung and Hyunjin-hyung are probably the only reason I’m still alive,” Jeongin paused, voice cracking. “I guess my mom forgot about me, or stopped caring, I don’t know. I just don’t want–”

 “You have us, now,” Changbin said fiercely. “Eight hyungs, okay? You’ll always have us, yeah?”

 Jeongin nodded slowly, and Jisung couldn’t take anymore, sliding forward to gather the youngest in his arms. “I had the same worries, Jeonginnie,” he said. “I didn’t want you to slip away either. Any of you,” he added, glancing at Hyunjin. The latter’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but he smiled a little, coming off the couch to join the hug. Soon, they were all a big mess of limbs, gathered around Jeongin. Even Changbin joined, muttering something about, “bunch of babies”, but he held on the longest, ruffling Jeongin’s hair when he pulled back.

 Jeongin looked better, his eyes bright as he grinned, braces flashing. He looked relieved, and Jisung wondered how long he’d been wanting to say that, get it off his chest.

 Jisung’s heart swelled, and, without the need to think about it, he slid his ring off his finger, placing it in Jeongin’s hand, the same one that Chan and Changbin had given him the first night–a symbol of trust. “I want you to have it,” Jisung said when Jeongin looked up disbelievingly. “As a promise.”

 “Hyung, I can’t–”

 Jisung grinned. “It’s yours now, Innie.”

 Jeongin’s eyes widened in wonder, nodding as he stared at the ring open-mouthed, then sliding it onto his own finger with awe. “Thank you, hyung,” he whispered.

 “Don’t mention it,” Jisung said in response.

 Behind him, Hyunjin squeezed his shoulder, leaning forward and whispering, “Thank you.”

 Jisung turned, smiling honestly. “I meant it, all of it,” he said. “We all did. You know that, right? You’ll always be welcome here, you don’t have to be a part of the gang to be one of us.”

 Hyunjin enveloped Jisung in a hug, quick but meaningful. “Thank you.

 “Of course,” he said. After a moment, Jisung’s mouth began to curve into a wicked grin. “Anyone up for some games?”

 “Oh, hell no,” Changbin said with a giggle, leaving the living room. “I’m not about to get torn apart by a bunch of dongsaengs, I’ll lose an eye.”

 Laughing, Felix jumped up at the mention of games, running to the couch to force his way in between Hyunjin and Seungmin, and Jeongin followed suit, draping himself across all of their laps. “Who’s ready to lose?” he asked.

—

 Jisung bent over his notebook, trying to ignore the time for the fifth time in what felt like an hour. It wasn’t _that_ late, but he couldn’t really help being worried. He frowned, giving in to the urge to check the time _again_ , and sighed when he realized only six minutes had passed since he last looked. He scribbled another line in his notebook, then gave up, throwing his pencil onto the table carelessly.

 Minho had gone out this morning, and even though it wasn’t entirely uncommon for him to spend almost the whole day out, Jisung still found himself shaking his leg, waiting at the kitchen table. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if something had happened, but if it had, Minho would’ve texted him, right? Unless he wasn’t able to.

 Jisung shook that thought away quickly, breathing out a long breath. In a desperate attempt to distract himself, he turned his phone on, playing soft music. Most of the other members had gone to bed about an hour ago, all except Chan, who Jisung knew would be up for at least another hour. That left Jisung sitting in the semi-darkness, hunched over the table and trying not to seem clingy or overprotective, despite how his heart sped up every time he heard a noise.

 By the time he’d filled out a whole page in what he thought was mostly useless scribbles and he’d almost run through the entirety of his playlist, he finally heard the front door creak open. He tried not to jump up at the sound, tried not to rush towards the door. He sat and listened as the lock clicked back into place and the person started up the stairs before stopping.

 Jisung’s breath caught in his throat a little when Minho stepped into the kitchen instead of heading upstairs. “Jisung?” he asked.

 Jisung blinked up at the older sheepishly, fighting back the blush threatening to spread over his cheeks. “Hey,” he responded, keeping his voice down. It was pointless, no one was likely to hear them anyways, but he was too scared to be loud, like it would break some illusion.

 Minho sat softly in the chair next to him, still trying to hold eye contact with him, which Jisung avoided somewhat shyly. “Jisung, it’s late. Why are you still up?”

 Jisung shrugged a little, fiddling with the sheet of paper he’d been writing on. He noticed how Minho’s eyes followed the movement, but the older didn’t say anything, just waited patiently for Minho’s response. “I couldn’t really sleep,” Jisung said honestly. Finally, he met Minho’s eyes, hoping that he would understand.

 Minho raised an eyebrow at him, flickering to Jisung’s hands, still messing with his notebook. “And why’s that?” he asked, serious.

 Jisung huffed, glaring at Minho. “You _know_ why,” he said, the words coming out as a whine. Minho just blinked at him, then tilted his head, confused. Jisung had been sure that he was teasing him, but now it seemed like Minho was actually unsure. Frustrated, Jisung pouted, turning away from Minho stubbornly. “You weren’t back yet,” he mumbled.

 “You–you couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t back?” Minho asked.

 Jisung crossed his arms. “It’s not just you!” he said defensively. “I never sleep well if I don’t know where someone is.”

 Minho frowned, and Jisung could tell he was still confused. “But–I always come back late, and you’re asleep?”

 “Most of the time I wasn’t really asleep,” Jisung huffed, like it was obvious. He shot Minho a nervous look. “And... it’s harder now.”

 A small smirk broke out over Minho’s face at the implication of Jisung’s last comment. For the past week they’d been sharing Jisung’s bed, tangled in each other. Jisung had been falling asleep to the deep rise and fall of Minho’s chest, hearing his heart beat. The physical closeness was the comfort Jisung needed, and if he could have Minho even closer, he would. He didn’t want to ever be let go. Minho leaned forward, lips dangerously close, and Jisung felt the outline of his smirk against his own lips. “You’re cute,” Minho whispered, before pulling back.

 Jisung spluttered, both flustered over the comment and his previous distance, and annoyed at the fact that Minho had pulled away. “I’m not cute!” he protested, feeling himself blush.

 Minho grinned, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “You have no idea, do you?”

 “I’m literally in a gang, I can’t be cute,” Jisung argued. “Besides, I just meant that I was worried about you, it’s been shitty recently and it’s not exactly safe and– _why are you laughing_?” he hissed.

 Minho shook his head, still laughing at him, light and airy. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just–did you know your cheeks puff out when you’re being all defensive?”

 Jisung frowned at Minho, making a point of sucking his cheeks in. “I’m _not_ cute,” he mumbled. “I’m a _gang member_.”

 “Whatever you say,” Minho said, still smirking somewhat mischievously. He reached forward, placing his fingers under Jisung’s chin to pull his gaze up to his once again, looking at Jisung carefully. When Jisung flushed, Minho laughed once again. “ _Cute_.”

 “I hate you,” Jisung muttered, pulling his face away from Minho’s grip and trying to hide his flush with his sweater. He peeked up at Minho, realizing that the older’s face had settled into a more serious expression, examining Jisung carefully. “I meant it,” Jisung mumbled, still hiding part of his face.

 Minho raised an eyebrow teasingly. “That you hate me?”

 “No!” Jisung hissed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

 “Yes, but it’s so fun to watch you get all flustered,” Minho laughed.

 “Shut up,” Jisung said, but he laughed, hitting Minho lightly with one of his sleeves. “I meant that I was serious about being worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 Minho nodded, his smile slipping just the slightest bit, serious once again. “I know. I guess I’m just not used to someone looking after me,” he admitted slowly. It reminded Jisung a little bit of one of their first conversations, when Jisung told him he was looking out for him at the underground. It was mostly a joke then, but it was all too real now. Minho must’ve been able to tell Jisung was still on the edge, because he smiled softly, saying, “I’ll be fine.”

 “You can’t promise that,” Jisung pointed out, straightening up in his chair. “And besides that doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried. You’re doing a lot for us, and I’m grateful, but you’re not even a Stray. You’re putting yourself into a lot of danger for a gang that you don’t even belong to.”

 Shaking his head, Minho sighed. “But I’m not really doing it for the Strays,” he said, obviously choosing his words carefully. “I’m doing it for Jeongin and Hyunjin, for myself.” He glanced at Jisung, weighing his reaction. “For you.”

 “For me?” Jisung prompted, raising an eyebrow.

 “Worry can go both ways, you know,” Minho stated, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to see you hurt either. And the sooner all of this is done with the Sharks, the better I’ll feel.” He hesitated a little before continuing, “And maybe–I don’t know–maybe it kind of _is_ for the Strays? I don’t know what’s going to happen but I know that it’s likely that it’s going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better. And I hate to admit it, but I actually kind of like you assholes. So if I can help...” he trailed off.

 Jisung was speechless, gaping at him in shock. Minho admitting that he kind of cared about the Strays was the last thing that he was expecting, and the longer he stared at the older, the more unsure he looked of his words, but he didn’t back down. “Plus I really hate the Sharks,” Minho hurried to add, wringing his hands together.

 At that, Jisung let out a laugh, and he had to remind himself that other people in the house were sleeping. He shook his head, smiling a little. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said. “That means a lot, I hope you know that. I know that you don’t like gangs, but the Strays are my family. Without them, without Chan...” Jisung cut himself off, not quite sure what to say. He didn’t really have words to express what his family meant to him, or where he’d be without them. He sighed. “I’d die to protect them.”

 Minho tensed a little in his seat, eyes shooting to Jisung’s with an intensity that he’d never seen before. “It’ll never come to that,” he said, his voice dark and heavy with meaning.

 Jisung wasn’t intimidated, and he held Minho’s gaze easily. “I hope not,” he said. “But I would. And I know that any of them would do the same for me. Maybe it’s crazy, but...”

 Minho bit his lip, then shook his head just the smallest bit. The action was so brief Jisung almost didn’t catch it. Minho looked at Jisung seriously. “It’s not crazy,” he said.

 It was silent for a long moment, but the kind of silent that was comfortable. Jisung was sure there was a lot that they needed to say, a lot that maybe should be said, but when he spoke again, he found himself changing the subject entirely. “So, you used to be a dancer?”

 Minho blinked at him, obviously a little taken aback. “Yeah,” he responded, gazing at Jisung suspiciously.

 Jisung cocked an eyebrow, leaning back and smirking playfully. “Were you any good?”

 Minho scoffed. “Obviously,” he said, taking the bait. He matched Jisung’s playful tone easily, both of them enjoying the short distraction.  
    
 Jisung reached for his phone, casually turning up the volume. He grinned. “Prove it,” he said, a challenge in his tone.

 Minho narrowed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands. “Why should I?” he asked nonchalantly. “I don’t have anything to prove.”

 Jisung shrugged, beginning to stand up to leave. “You’re right. You don’t. I guess I’ll never really know if you were actually a good dancer,” he said. He looked back over his shoulder when he was almost out of the room, knowing that Minho was watching him walk away, eyes dark. “Maybe it’s for the best, though. I mean, I _have_ seen you fight, and...” he shrugged again, acting like it was the most boring thing that he’d ever seen, then turned around again.

 Almost instantly, he felt arms encircle his waist, pulling him back to the kitchen, back to the music. Jisung giggled a little, and even though his heart was pounding, he felt a sense of victory. He hummed, adjusting himself more comfortably in Minho’s arms as the older drew him impossibly closer and they swayed to the beat. “This isn’t dancing,” he whispered, closing his eyes. He reached down, placing his hands over Minho’s lightly, hesitantly at first. When Minho’s hands tightened around him, he took that as a good sign, lacing his fingers with Minho’s.

 Minho leaned down, his breath ghosting over Jisung’s neck. “No?” he hummed. “There’s music, we’re moving. I think this counts.”  
   
 Jisung pouted. “I wanted to see you dance for real,” he argued. He wasn’t genuinely upset, and now that he was in Minho’s arms, he didn’t want to leave–even if Minho offered to actually dance for him. “But this is okay, too. I guess.”

 Minho laughed. “You guess?”  
   
 Jisung shrugged, giggling. “I don’t know. Could be better,” he teased, just wanting to see Minho’s reaction.

 Minho smirked, and Jisung felt it, lips close to his ear. “And how’s that?” he whispered.

 Jisung’s breath hitched, hyper aware of how close they were, of each movement of his body pressed so close to Minho’s. It almost didn’t feel real, his heart was beating fast, but he still gathered all of his courage to whisper, “You could be kissing me.”

 Minho laughed against him, making no move to change their position. He dipped down, ghosting his lips along Jisung’s neck. The latter stiffened, before relaxing into the feeling. To his embarrassment, he let out a small whimper, which only prompted Minho to tighten his grip on Jisung’s waist, controlling their movements. “And why would I do that?” he asked, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to Jisung’s pounding heart and shaky breath.

 “Because you want to,” Jisung bit back cheekily, refusing to back down even though the older obviously had the upper hand.

 Minho nipped at Jisung’s neck, then kissed it apologetically after Jisung’s sharp intake of breath. “You’re demanding tonight,” he said casually.

 “You’re an asshole tonight,” Jisung quipped back, tilting his head to urge Minho to continue kissing it. The latter just chuckled, pulling back, and Jisung huffed, frustrated. He twisted himself in Minho’s grip easily, not prepared for the way Minho was looking at him. His eyes were dark, full of want, but also soft, and Jisung realized that the way Minho’s arms moved to lock around him once he finished adjusting was careful, just wanting him close. As if on instinct, Jisung’s hands laced together around Minho’s neck, so they were face to face. They continued swaying, and Jisung sighed, happy. “Now this is dancing,” he said.

 Minho smiled. “We’re literally doing the same thing,” he pointed out, moving his thumbs to push at the bottom of Jisung’s shirt, rubbing circles into his waist. Jisung wasn’t even sure the older was aware of the action, or the effect it had on him.

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “It’s about the intent,” he stated, like it was obvious. “The feeling.”

 Minho’s eyes twinkled, amused. “Intent?”

 Jisung hummed in confirmation.

 Minho leaned in, lips hovering over Jisung’s. “And what do you _intend_ to do?”

 Unable to take any more teasing, Jisung impatiently connected their lips. It was a quick kiss, and Minho barely had time to respond before Jisung was pulling back. “That,” he said simply. He grinned mischievously, slipping out of Minho’s arms, watching as the latter’s eyes darkened at the distance. “Well, it’s late...” Jisung said, turning around slowly once again. “We should probably go–”

 He was cut off by Minho tugging his arm, spinning him around and immediately reconnecting their lips. Minho didn’t waste any time, pressing himself into Jisung carelessly, forcing his lips apart with his own. Jisung returned it eagerly, glad to have finally riled up Minho, glad that his effect on him was just as severe as Minho’s on Jisung.

 Minho walked Jisung back until his legs hit the table, not once disconnecting their lips. Jisung slid onto the table easily, arching up to deepen the kiss. When he ran out of breath and had to pull back, Minho ducked down, kissing along his jaw then down his neck, sucking lightly on a spot, receiving a soft whine from the younger.

 Jisung tangled his hands in Minho’s shirt, still breathless, but too eager to feel his lips on his own again, and tugged him back to his mouth. Their lips met enthusiastically, and Jisung’s heart kicked at the soft groan Minho let out as his hands settled once again on Jisung’s waist, pulling him closer, closer. Jisung wrapped his legs around Minho’s back, their chests touching, and ran his hands through Minho’s hair, enjoying the hum of approval he received.

 After what felt like both forever and seconds, they both had to pull back to breathe, leaning their foreheads against each other as they breathed. Jisung felt like the world was spinning. He’d kissed Minho before, but it was different every time, new. He could never get close enough, and he absentmindedly ran his hands up and down his back, just wanting to keep touching him.

 Minho leaned in to capture his lips one last time, softer, slower, before he whispered, “Jisungie.”

 “Yeah?” Jisung responded, dazed. His eyes were still closed, and when he blinked them open to complain about Minho not kissing him anymore, he saw the fondness in his gaze, Minho’s dark brown eyes twinkling. He smiled, pushing Jisung’s hair back and resting a hand on his cheek.

 “As fun as this is, we’re in the kitchen. Of a house with _seven_ other people in it. Woojin would _kill_ us,” Minho said, still holding onto Jisung.

 Jisung pouted, stretching upwards to kiss Minho again, but the older leaned back so he was just out of reach. “It’s late, Jisungie,” Minho said softly. When Jisung continued to glare, he laughed, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his lips.

 “One last dance,” Jisung said. Minho gave him a stern gaze, but seemed to break easily, laughing softly as he held onto Jisung’s hand to help him slide off the table.  
   
 Jisung folded into Minho without hesitation, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other intertwined with Minho’s fingers as he gently led him around the kitchen. “Hey, Minho?” he asked, resting his head on the older boy’s shoulder. Minho hummed to show he was listening, and Jisung swallowed his reservations about what he was going to ask. “Are we crazy?”

 “Probably,” Minho responded without hesitation. “But it depends on why you’re asking.”

 “I don’t know,” Jisung sighed. “It just feels stupid, I guess. Or out of place. Like, we’re gang members and street rats and in the middle of a gang war, but we’re kissing and dancing around the kitchen like everything is fine.”

 “Are you happy?” Minho asked, completely out of nowhere.

 “What?” Jisung stuttered, taken aback. “I just–I meant that we don’t know what’s going to happen and all this–are we crazy? Because–”

 “Jisung,” Minho said softly, pulling back to look at Jisung’s face. Jisung bit his lip to stop himself from ranting. “Are you _happy_?”

 “Yes,” he breathed, shifting closer.

 Minho broke out into a wide smile, drawing Jisung’s head to rest on his shoulder again. “Then you’re not crazy. Why can’t we dance a little? Be happy?”

 “Because we don’t know what’s going to happen,” Jisung whispered. Yet, he let himself relax in Minho’s hold.

 “Maybe that’s why we _should_ be doing this,” Minho said. He pressed a kiss to Jisung’s forehead. “You’re right. Anything could happen, and I’m as scared of what’s going to happen with the Sharks as you are,” he said, his arms tightening protectively. “But it doesn’t matter, because I want to be here, with you. I tried to avoid that for so long, and honestly?”

 “What?” Jisung breathed.

 “I don’t know how I ever tried to convince myself that I could live without you in my life,” Minho told him, honest and vulnerable.

 Jisung blinked up at him, heart beating fast. He felt himself blushing, then hid his face in Minho’s neck. “Me too,” he whispered.

 He smiled, face still tucked into Minho, and he felt at peace. Minho was right. He could be scared about what would happen with the Sharks–about the looming threat of an attack–but that didn’t change how he felt. Maybe his urgency amplified his feelings, that he needed to have Minho while he could, while he was here. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, because he was _happy_. Everything else could wait, at least until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soft soft soft 
> 
> I wasn't going to write another kiss scene so soon because I'm not really good at them but I legitimately couldn't help it so here you go :) 
> 
> Also! I'm writing a minsung one shot right now!!! It's not done, but when I finish it, I'll post it here!!! (Verbatim is priority right now, so I'm not sure when it will be done, or how long it will be honestly, it's about 3k right now.) But yeah, it'll be a college au best friends to lovers type???? I don't want to give too much away but I think it'll be good :'), was just wondering if anyone would be interested in that?
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for reading!!!!! Hope you enjoyed!!! Comments are greatly appreciated and squealed over :)) <33


	17. Chapter 17

“Holy _shit_!”  
   
 Jisung jumped at the exclamation, not expecting the sudden words from the boy next to him. Jisung shot Seungmin a glare, putting his phone down. “What the hell, dude?” he said, a little grumpy. It hadn’t really been the best day–he woke up earlier than he wanted to, and when he did, Minho wasn’t in the bed next to him. The elder had gone out early in the morning, apparently, and despite Jisung constantly begging for him to at least _tell_ Jisung when he was leaving, Jisung had no idea where Minho had gone. Nevertheless, Minho had returned about two hours ago, looking a little sheepish when Jisung scowled at him.

 Seungmin shot up from the couch, jostling the laptop in his hands. “Holy fucking shit!” he yelled again. “Oh my God, Jisung! Oh my _fucking_ –”

 “ _What_?” Jisung said, kicking Seungmin lazily. He didn’t have the energy to stand up right now, and Seungmin tended to be over-dramatic at times.

 “I fucking did it!” Seungmin cheered. “Shit, I can’t believe I did it. Jisung, _look_ at this! Look at this now!”

 Jisung stood up slowly, suddenly anxious for whatever Seungmin had to show him. He didn’t want to get his hopes too high, knew that it was likely that this was either a false alarm or not want Jisung was expecting. Seungmin turned his laptop so Jisung could see, tapping the screen excitedly. Jisung narrowed his eyes at the image, not sure what he was looking at. On the screen was an address, along with a picture of a large storage unit. “What is that?” he asked.

 Seungmin huffed, like that was the dumbest question in the world. “I finally fucking hacked some of the Sharks system,” Seungmin said, his voice rushed. “This is the address of their ammo storage. All of their guns, bullets, knives, weapons–you name it–should be inside.”

 Jisung’s mouth dropped, his heartbeat picking up in excitement. “Holy _shit!_ ” Jisung yelled. “Oh my God, Seungmin–this could be a game changer.”

 Seungmin beamed. “I know!” His smile dropped a little, and he frowned at his screen. “But this is all that I’ve been able to find of any importance,” he said carefully. “Everything is heavily guarded, this one took me forever to crack. I don’t know how long it is before I’m able to find anything else, or if it will be important.”

 Jisung shook his head. “Don’t be like that,” he said, trying to be encouraging. “This is awesome, this is going to help us so much. If we can get _in_ there–” Jisung laughed, almost in disbelief. “We’re low on firepower, too. This is fucking perfect, Seungmin.”

 Seungmin hummed in confirmation. Jisung could tell he was still excited, but the energy had burned off a little, replaced with a certain seriousness that Seungmin only had on rare occasions. “I’ll keep working on the rest of it, but right now we should find Chan.”

 Jisung nodded. “I’ll go get him. Changbin, too.”

 “Try to find Woojin, he’s good at strategizing,” Seungmin suggested.

 Jisung nodded again, before he was running out of the room, hurrying to Changbin’s room. He threw open the door, finding both Chan and Changbin, already deep in conversation. He was breathing heavily from running up the stairs and all of the excitement. He grinned at the pair, receiving curious gazes. “Come downstairs, Seungmin has news,” he said, rushed.

 Chan raised an eyebrow. “Gang related?”

 “Yeah,” Jisung said. “It’s pretty fucking big.”

 Chan laughed. “Language, Jisung,” he chastised, but their was an amused glint to his eyes. “We’ll be right down. Have you told Woojin yet?”

 Jisung shook his head. “I was just going to find him.”

 Chan nodded. “And Minho?”

 Jisung blinked at him in surprise. “Should I?” he asked carefully.

 Chan shrugged. “He’s been a pretty big help so far, and the more information he knows, the better, don’t you think?” he said. He turned to Changbin. “You should tell Felix to come, too. He should know.”

 Woojin was easy to find, jumping up in excitement when Jisung peeked his head into Jeongin and Hyunjin’s room. The latter pair looked up in curiosity, and Jisung didn’t really see any harm in the two of them coming to the meeting as well, so he sent them downstairs to wait. Lastly, he pushed open the door to his own room, finding Minho laying in his old mattress on the floor. Jisung frowned down at him, tilting his head. “What are you doing on the floor?”

 Minho blinked up at him a couple of times. Jisung watched the action, taken aback by how beautiful the older’s eyes were–how wide and innocent they seemed in the somewhat dim lighting of his bedroom. Minho shrugged, shifting over to make room in the bed. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just different down here.”

 Jisung eyed the space in the bed, wanting nothing more than to crawl in next to him, which was obviously what Minho was expecting, judging from the look that he was giving Jisung. The latter huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t give me that, Lee Minho. I’m still mad at you.”

 Minho pouted, and Jisung almost crumbled. He had to bite his lip to hold back his laughter. Minho looked so _cute_. It was a stark contrast from the boy Jisung used to think Minho was–strong, confident, sexy. Not that Minho _wasn’t_ those things, Jisung just wasn’t expecting him to have such a dramatic duality. “I just didn’t want to wake you up,” Minho said, the excuse tumbling out of his mouth easily. “You’re cute when you’re asleep.”

 “Nice try,” Jisung said with a giggle. “Besides, your presence is requested downstairs. There’s some pretty big news.”

 Minho raised an eyebrow. “I’m invited to the gang meeting?”

 “Well, Jeongin and Hyunjin are going, so...” Jisung trailed off with a laugh. “Chan said you should come. I mean, you’re doing a lot for us anyways, you should definitely know this.”

 Minho groaned, laying back in the bed and tucking his hands behind his head. “But I’m so _comfortable_ ,” he whined, grinning at Jisung teasingly.

 “You’re a little shit, you know that?” Jisung said, unable to hide his laugh. “Come on, you lazy asshole, let’s go.” He grabbed Minho’s hand, moving to tug him up from the mattress on the floor. He missed Minho’s sly grin, innocently tightening his grip to pull Minho up. But the older boy had another plan. He used Jisung’s grip and tenuous position to pull him down on top of him.  
   
 Jisung landed with a heavy sound, breathing out heavily. Minho’s hands locked behind Jisung’s neck playfully, and Jisung was suddenly reminded of the first morning that they’d spend in this room together, before Jisung tended to Minho’s wounds. The position was similar, the devilish smile on his face almost an exact copy. Minho nosed at Jisung’s neck, placing a short kiss there. “Still mad at me, Sungie?” he whispered.

 Jisung pulled back, untangling their legs, and glared down at Minho. “You’re impossible.”

 “You love it,” Minho retorted easily.

 “Shut up,” Jisung said, blushing. “We really have to go downstairs, they’re probably waiting on us. It’s really important.”

 Minho frowned, looking up into Jisung’s eyes. Jisung’s breath caught–did Minho know how whipped Jisung was for his eyes? “One kiss?” he pleaded.

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “Oh my God,” he groaned, fighting a smile. “Fine, you big baby.” He leaned forward and pecked Minho’s lips quickly, pulling back even quicker and scrambling off Minho. The latter looked a little betrayed, scowling at Jisung good-naturedly.

 “Come on,” Jisung said. “You’re slow.”

 Minho scrambled out of the bed, meeting Jisung at the door to the bedroom. He grinned at him, picking him up and whirling him around until Minho was in front of the door instead. “Come on, hurry up, Jisungie,” he chuckled, hurrying out of the room.

 Jisung huffed. “Lee Minho, you are an actual _child_.”

 His only response was a high-pitched laugh echoing down the hall. Jisung shook his head and hurried after him, both of them reaching the dining room at about the same time, out of breath.

 Changbin raised an eyebrow, his eyes roaming over the two of them. He placed his chin in one hand, a cat-like smirk playing over his face. “Nice of you to join us,” he said.

 Hyunjin laughed. “And what were you two doing?” he asked, his eyes wide and purposefully innocent. Next to him, Jeongin laughed.

 “ _Nothing_ ,” Jisung said, shooting the laughing members a glare that shut them up.

 When everyone had taken a seat around the table, Seungmin stood, turning his laptop around to show the group. “As you all know, I’ve been working on hacking the Sharks system for weeks now, and I finally cracked something,” he said, beaming with pride as all of the boys around the table leaned forward, some of them coming out of their chairs to see the content on the screen.

 There was a unanimous noise of confusion around the table, and Seungmin jumped almost giddily. “This is the address to the Sharks’ ammo unit,” he said, eyes shining excitedly. “As far as I know, they only have the one. It’s pretty big, too. Almost all of their weapons and ammunition would be inside.”  
   
 There was a collective gasp and Chan sat up a bit straighter. “Did you just find this?” he asked carefully.

 Seungmin nodded. “Yes, but I’ve been working on the same code for weeks. I originally thought it could be a trap, but they would’ve had to set it up as a red herring before the real feud began. Which would be likely, except no one in their right mind puts _that_ much security on a red herring.”

 “Unless it’s a really good one,” Woojin pointed out.

 Minho shook his head, looking at the storage unit in interest. “I don’t think it is. I’ve been by that unit before. It’s always fairly heavily guarded. I didn’t know it was Shark property, but it makes sense that they would like it there.”

 “What do you mean?” Chan asked.

 Minho sighed. “The unit is on the other side of town. The area is pretty dirty–like, full of criminals, drug dealers, addicts, basically just loose cannons. Normally that would be a bad idea, it would make it hard to protect. But the Sharks also deal there often, the people know them. So as long as the security is high and no one really knows what the unit was for, no one would talk. Plus, it’s hidden in almost plain sight. None of us would’ve thought to check the slums for one of the most important units for a gang.”

 Chan hummed, nodding. “You’re right. I would’ve thought a warehouse in the city. Felix, do you know anything about this building?” he asked, turning to the younger boy.

 “Unfortunately, no,” Felix said, frowning. “My time as a Shark was basically useless to us, all of their big secrets are surprisingly well kept, mostly because no one actually trusts each other.”

 Jisung nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. When the table went quiet, he turned to Chan, feeling a spark of hope. “So, hyung, what’s the plan?”

 Chan frowned, taking a minute to think. “I want to hit it,” he said carefully. “And soon, before they find out that we know about the storage unit. We need guns, anyways–any sort of weapon is good. And if we deplete their supply at the same time, that’s a bonus. But Seungmin–is there any way of knowing what _their_ plan is? I’m scared the threat of their attack on us has been looming over us for too long, we might not be able to fight back at this point.”

 Seungmin sighed, looking down on his laptop. “From what I can tell, anything they know about us isn’t in their system. I can’t find anything, which is either unbelievably smart or unbelievably dumb on their part,” he said.

 “Do we know anything about their attack?” Changbin asked, looking specifically at Minho.

 The latter shook his head. “I haven’t spoken with any Sharks since I found out about the original threat.”

 Jeongin looked up hopefully. “Is it possible that it was an empty threat?”

 “No,” Chan replied sadly, smiling comfortingly at the younger despite his admission. “Not with the Sharks.” Chan stared at the table for a long moment before he took a deep breath. “At this point, we just have to be prepared for whatever they hit us with. Starting tomorrow, it’s emergency precautions. I thought we might be able to find out more in terms of their plans, but since we weren’t, we have to have other plans. Changbin, I want you to teach Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Felix how to shoot. I’ll personally go out tomorrow to get more weapons, and we’ll keep them in the house just in case. We’ll also send out an emergency warning to some of the other, more trusted Strays.” Chan sighed. “To be honest with you all, Minho and I were working to weed out which Strays could be a traitor. I hate to say it, but I’m almost entirely sure we have one in our midst, but right now, we have bigger things to worry about.”

 The group quiet, a heavy sense of foreboding lingering over them as the seriousness of the situation finally seemed to weigh down on all of them. Minho reached over and grabbed one of Jisung’s hands, giving it a squeeze under the table. He laced their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over the back of Jisung’s hand, and he didn’t know whether he was trying to comfort himself of Jisung, but the action was welcome. Jisung smiled softly at him.

 “I’m going to start planning for a raid on their ammo unit immediately. I know it’s soon, but it should take place within the next week. If we hit them first, it could throw off any of their plans,” Chan said, looking around the table with a dark expression. “I won’t force anyone to come, but the more people I trust on the team, the better.”

 “Count me in,” Changbin said without hesitation.

 “Me, too,” Woojin added.

 “And me,” Jisung said. Minho’s hand tightened around his own under the table.

 “I’m going too,” Minho said immediately after. “I can fight, I work well under pressure, and I want to get this whole thing over with.” He glanced around the table with a challenge in his eye, but Chan only nodded in agreement.

 “I’m going,” Felix said.

 Chan shook his head. “It’s too dangerous for you. You could be recognized,” he said.

 “And Minho won’t be?” Felix countered indignantly.

 “That’s different, Felix. The Sharks aren’t looking to kill Minho,” Chan said. “If you’re targeted–” he cut himself off, letting the rest of them fill in the rest of his sentence. “Besides, I want you and Seungmin to stay here, make sure the house remains secure. Keep Jeongin and Hyunjin safe.”

 Felix’s expression soured a little, but he nodded. Changbin shot Chan a grateful look, wrapping his arm around Felix to comfort him.

 Chan leaned back and sighed. “This is good, you guys. This could turn this whole fight around. But for right now, I think you should all get some rest,” he said, looking at everyone individually. “Woojin and I will stay up and start planning.”

 As everyone began to leave the dining room, Jisung held Minho back, waiting until they were alone. He looked up at him, heart pounding. “Why did you do that?” he demanded.

 Minho blinked at him. “Do what?”

 “Volunteer to go on the raid,” Jisung responded, huffing. “Why do you keep putting yourself in danger!”

 Minho threw his hands up in frustration. “You’re putting yourself in danger, too! Why is is this different?”

 Jisung crossed his arms. “You know why.”

 Minho softened, walking forward and pulling Jisung closer. He ran his hands down his arms comfortingly. “I know I’m not a Stray. I know you think I’m crazy for putting myself in danger for you guys, but I refuse to stay here while you go on the raid,” he said. “I really will go crazy if I have to sit here and wait, not knowing what’s happening. At least if I’m there with you, I can make sure you’re okay.” He smiled at him a little. “I can protect you if I’m there.”

 Jisung frowned, annoyed. He shrugged Minho’s hand off his shoulder. “I don’t need protecting, Minho.”

 Minho shook his head, grinning mischeivously. “It goes both ways,” he said. “If I’m there, I can protect you, and you can protect me.”

 Jisung rolled his eyes, but he felt his irritation melt away. “I don’t know how you can joke right now,” he said, smiling anyways.

 Minho eyes darkened, his grin dropping into something more serious. “I’m not joking, not really. Jisung, I have to come with you. I need to know that you’re okay, and I know that you won’t stay here no matter what happens. So if that means I have to go with you all, then I’m going to go with you all,” Minho told him, a note of finality to his voice.

 Jisung sighed, but he nodded. “Okay,” he breathed. He knew he was only agreeing because he would feel the same way if the situations were reversed–and they had been before. It drove him crazy with worry every time Minho had been out lately, knowing the Sharks would probably do anything to get to him. “Okay,” he repeated. “But you have to promise me that if anything bad happens, you think of yourself first.”

 Minho frowned. “I can’t do that,” he said.

 “ _Minho_ ,” Jisung said. “Please. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

 “Jisung, nothing is going to happen–”

 “Just promise me,” Jisung said.

 Minho’s mouth set in a hard line, and Jisung was ready to continue arguing, but he turned his eyes away. “Fine.”

 “Say you promise,” Jisung pressed.

 Minho’s jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath. “I promise,” he said.

 Jisung smiled, but he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

 Minho shook his head, plastering his own smile on his face. “Let’s go to bed,” he said. “I’m tired.”

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “You’ve been sleeping since you got back earlier.”

 Minho raised an eyebrow. “Fine, then I’ll just go by myself,” he said casually, beginning to walk out of the room.

 Jisung glared after him for a second before he gave up pretending to be upset, and ended up running ahead of him, throwing a teasing smile over his shoulder as he tried to put his worries away, at least until tomorrow.

—

 “Jisung, wake up,” Minho hissed, right next to his ear. There was a hand on his shoulder, lightly pushing him. “Jisung, wake up _right_ now,” he said again, more demanding this time. The words were hurried, desperate, and even though Jisung was barely awake, fear settled deep in stomach. Something was wrong.

 He blinked up at Minho, the other boy illuminated by the moon and street lights that the open curtain allowed in to the room. “Minho?” he mumbled. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” He was sickeningly reminded of the last time he’d been awoken by Minho in the middle of the night. The thought itself made him want to cling to Minho, make sure that he was still okay.

 “Sh,” Minho whispered. “You have to be quiet.” His voice was barely even a breath, the words almost non existent, but in the silence of the night, they seemed so loud. “Come here.”

 He stood up, and Jisung scrambled to follow him, Minho carefully pulling him to the wall next to the window. “Look,” he breathed. “A car pulled up the street and stopped, just about ten minutes ago. I’ve never seen it before.”

 Jisung’s heart pounded, and he carefully leaned across Minho, making sure he couldn’t be seen through the window as he peered out of it. True to his word, there was a dark van parked along the sidewalk just past their house. There was no movement from the car, or anything else, for that matter. “Do you think–”

 Minho nodded, pulling Jisung even closer to him. He whispered in his ear. “I didn’t wake up when it parked,” he said. “But I saw shadows. At least two. And the driver of the car is still in there.”

 Jisung’s breath caught, the fear in his stomach blooming all of the sudden. “Minho, what’s happening?”

 Minho held a finger to his lips, indicating that they should be quiet. Nothing happened for a long time, until they both heard it–their eyes shooting to each other, wide and scared.

 Footsteps.

 “Maybe it’s Chan,” Jisung whispered. “He’s up late all the time. Especially tonight, since he said he was going to plan–”

 Minho shook his head. “No, I heard him go to bed hours ago,” he responded.

 Jisung’s breath quickened, hearing the footsteps again. “That’s downstairs,” he said hurriedly. “It might not be–”

 “Sh,” Minho reminded him. Jisung nodded, leaning forward and dipping his head so he was resting against Minho’s shoulder, listening. The footsteps stopped, and Jisung couldn’t breathe.

 “I should call Chan,” he said.

 Minho shook his head rapidly. “His ringer could be on, they could hear you.”

 “We don’t even know who ‘they’ is,” Jisung hissed.

 Minho’s eyes sharpened. “Anyone who breaks into this house in the middle of the night is a threat, Jisung,” he said. “We’re not safe.”

 “We could fight them. They don’t know we’re awake,” Jisung suggested.

 “I don’t know how many of them are in the house,” Minho said. “For all we know, there could be another van parked farther out of sight. How the hell did they even get in here?”

 “I don’t know, we’ve never been found before. _No one_ knows about this house,” Jisung said.

 “I knew," Minho pointed out. He sighed, a hand splayed out over Jisung's back protectively. "Okay, we have to do something,” Minho said. Despite his words, he held Jisung tighter, Minho’s back against the wall as they held each other. “Everyone at least has a good amount of experience fighting, so if it comes to it–” Minho froze all of the sudden, his grip slackening. When Jisung looked up, his face had gone pale.

 “What is it?” Jisung whispered.

 “Jeongin and Hyunjin,” he said, shaking. For the first time that night, Minho looked genuinely scared. “They’re sharing a room. No one in that room can fight, Jisung. Fuck. They’re closest to the stairs, too. If they start checking rooms–” Minho cut himself off, choked.

 Jisung tensed up. This was bad. This was really bad. “You have to go,” he whispered. “Go now, you have to hurry.”

 Minho’s voice shook. “Come with me,” he said desperately. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

 “If we both go, we’re likely to be heard. You can move quieter than me, you have to go,” Jisung said.

 Minho shook his head. “I–” his voice broke off.

 “Minho, you have to,” Jisung begged. “Nothing can happen to them, none of us would be able to forgive ourselves.”

 After a long moment, Minho nodded. Jisung felt like there was a clock running, ticking until they ran out of time. Minho pressed a short, desperate kiss to Jisung’s lips before he pulled away. He ducked under the window so he wouldn’t be seen, and made his way to his bag, rooting around in it for a second. Jisung was about to scold him for wasting time, before he realized what he was doing.

 Minho made his way back to Jisung, pressing his gun into his hands. “Get back into bed, hold onto this. Put your phone on mute, I’ll try to text you. If anyone comes into this room, shoot.”

 Jisung’s eyes widened. “Don’t give me this, you might need it,” he begged, trying to press the weapon back into Minho’s hand desperately.

 Minho wouldn’t take it back, he pulled away before Jisung had the chance to make him take it. He worked his way to the door silently, stopping right before he opened it up. He was breathing heavily, but it was carefully silent, even as Jisung could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He looked at Jisung one last time, whispering, “Remember. If this door opens, you shoot. Okay, Jisungie?”

 Jisung crawled back on his bed, breathing out a silent sob. The fear was beginning to take over and he shook his head. “But what if–”

 Minho’s gaze hardened. “You shoot,” Minho repeated, mostly mouthing the words at this point. “I’m not going to lose you.”  
   
 Jisung bit his lip, nodding. He watched as Minho opened the door and slipped into the hallway silently. He grabbed his phone off the night stand, holding it close to his chest, his other hand wrapped tightly around Minho’s gun, and waited.

 The house was eerily silent now, no footsteps to be heard. Not even Minho’s. Nothing from downstairs, nothing from upstairs. Jisung was holding his breath, afraid. What was going on in the other rooms? His heart jumped in fear when he realized that Woojin, Seungmin, and Chan were all downstairs. Even though Chan was no longer on the couch–he’d taken to sharing the room with Woojin and Seungmin–it was likely that they could’ve been found already. Yet, Jisung hadn’t heard any sign of trouble.

 Jisung held onto the hope that maybe this was a misunderstanding, that it was just one of the members getting up to get food, or water. He tried to tell himself that as the silence carried on for what felt like hours, but he knew had only been minutes.

 Jisung froze when the doorknob to the room began to move. It couldn’t have been Minho–not with the instructions the elder had just gave him. Jisung stiffened, sitting up in the bed and aiming the gun at the door. His hand was shaking, scared that it could be a member behind the door, checking to see if he was okay.

 The door opened inwards, slowly, without sound, and Jisung covered his mouth, terrified that his labored breathing could be heard in the night. The figure was dressed darkly, and Jisung knew instantly that it wasn’t one of his members, despite the fact that he was standing in the shadows. Jisung aimed the gun, ready to pull the trigger when the figure’s eyes landed on him. Jisung gasped, and the figure took his moment of hesitation, using it to lunge at Jisung, knocking the gun out of his hands and to the floor.

 The figure pinned Jisung down using his weight to keep him still. He pressed a gloved hand over Jisung’s mouth, holding tightly so Jisung couldn’t make any sound to alert the rest of the house to the situation. The man used his other hand to reach behind him, and Jisung’s heart stopped when he realized he’d pulled out a knife.

 Jisung had to use all his strength, slamming his head forward to hit the other guy, making them both disoriented. However, Jisung used the advantage to roll the man away from him, scrambling for the floor, trying to get to the gun.

 Jisung almost had his fingers around the handle of the gun when he felt a sharp pain in his side. Shocked, Jisung collapsed, gasping. He reached a hand down to his side, realizing belatedly that the man had stabbed him. Blood was readily collecting, staining his shirt and flowing at an alarming rate. Jisung blinked, head spinning. The man raised his hand, going to stab him again, and Jisung caught his wrist with a weak hand, scrambling backwards.

 His hand hit the gun, and he grabbed it desperately, but before he could aim and shoot, the man had a grip over Jisung’s hand, trying to wrestle the gun from him. Jisung held tight, but his hands were slippery with blood. He panicked, reaching his other hand up to have a better hold over the handle, and, for a second, the finger of his right hand slid over the trigger.

 Jisung took a deep breath, determined. He tugged again, trying to throw the man off. The muzzle was pointed away from him, and that was all Jisung knew. Even if it didn’t hit the man, the sound would wake up the rest of his members. When Jisung’s finger slid over the trigger once again, he hesitated for only a second–but in that second, the man twisted the gun. Jisung pulled the trigger, not sure where it was pointing anymore, having barely felt its movement.

 The gun went off, ringing throughout the house, destroying the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thanks for waiting for the update!!! Sorry, it's a little later than usual, but I was focusing on the one shot I was writing (which is up!!! you should check it out ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and loved <3 
> 
> (Also this wasn't edited. Like, at all. I just started writing it three hours ago, but at least I knew what I wanted to happen lol)
> 
> (Also also I don't know how to write suspense or action, so I hope this was okay! I've been planning this for a while, hoping I'd live up to expectations <3)


	18. Chapter 18

The second Minho left Jisung’s room, his stomach turned over. Something felt seriously wrong. He didn’t know if it was the dark hallway or the soft echo of the door shutting behind him, no matter how softly he tried to close it, but Minho’s heart pounded, and he felt sick. He didn’t like leaving Jisung alone, he was scared something would happen, but he was scared something could happen to Jeongin and Hyunjin, too, and they were alone in the room at the top of the stairs.

 He had to remind himself that Jisung had been a part of the gang for at least two years now, that he could take care of himself. He took one last, unsure, look at Jisung’s door–picturing the other boy huddled, scared, in his bed, holding Minho’s gun. He _would_ be okay. He had to be.

 He took a deep breath, ensuring that it was silent, before he forced himself to walk, stepping lighter than he ever had in his life and using the wall next to him to guide himself down the hallway. His heart tugged with guilt as he passed Changbin and Felix’s room and he almost stopped to make sure they were awake, but he didn’t have time. The silence of the house was pressing on him, and he was terrified that something very bad had already happened. Besides, if Changbin and Felix were already awake, it was likely that they–Changbin–would kill anyone who stepped through that door without a thought.

 After what felt like hours, but was probably only seconds, Minho made it to the door at the end of the hallway. He had to resist the urge to rip the door open, knowing that if he stumbled in, wide-eyed and nervous, he was likely to freak them out. Once again, guilt tugged at him. Jeongin and Hyunjin shouldn’t have been caught up in something like this–they were innocent, they’d never even fought before. There had to be a better way, a way to fix this. But first, they all had to make it through the night.

 He glanced down the staircase, hating how quiet the house was again. It was like they’d never heard the footsteps to begin with. Minho frowned, confused. If there were people in the house, why hadn’t they done anything yet? He pushed that thought away, knowing that over thinking right now wouldn’t help.

 He held his breath and slowly turned the doorknob until he could push the door open soundlessly. He winced when the floor underneath him creaked traitorously, but he made his way into the room carefully.

 The second the door was shut behind him, he was being tugged forward, then pushed back roughly, pressed against the wall with an arm to his throat. He spluttered, disoriented. He struggled against the hold, but the person was stronger than him. Minho’s heart pounded–someone was in the house, they were in Jeongin and Hyunjin’s room. He tried to focus, spluttering as he tried to breathe and focus in on the person’s face.

 “ _Minho_?” the voice whispered. Minho knew that voice.

 Minho had never been more relieved in his life, the arm at his throat slackening. He doubled over, resting one hand on a knee and using the other to rub at his neck, trying to catch his breath. “Fuck, Woojin,” he said, still breathing heavily. He glared up at the older boy, but couldn’t bring himself to actually be mad. “Who knew you were so fucking strong,” he hissed.

 Woojin didn’t even look apologetic, he just kept looking at Minho with that steady, calculating gaze he had, that didn’t give away what he was thinking.

 “What are you doing here?” Minho asked, trying to get reoriented with the darkness as he fought to catch his breath.

 Woojin held his gaze easily. “I told you,” he said, honest. “We protect our own.”

 Minho didn’t have time to be shocked as a figure pushed past Woojin in the darkness, and Jeongin was running forward, smothering Minho with a hug. “Hyung!” he whispered.

 Once again, relief filled him, and he pulled Jeongin in tightly. The younger boy was shaking in his hold, and Minho’s heart ached for him. He hushed him quietly, trying to calm him by running his hands through his hair. Looking over Jeongin’s shoulder, he saw Hyunjin, sitting on the bed silently. Minho was surprised at how well Hyunjin was keeping it together, how he met Minho’s eyes evenly. They nodded at each other, and Minho knew that was all that needed to be said.

 “Hey, Jeonginnie,” Minho whispered, moving them so they weren’t so close to the door in case it opened. Minho pulled back, wiping at the tears on Jeongin’s face. “It’s going to be okay.”

 Jeongin shook his head rapidly. “I didn’t know if you were okay, we were so scared, hyung. Please don’t leave us,” he breathed, trying to control his cries. “Hyung, I want to go home.”

 Minho glanced up at Hyunjin again, sharing a sad look with him. Jeongin was too young for this, he didn’t deserve to be so scared, should’ve never gotten involved in this. Minho’s heart broke all over again when he realized Jeongin was barely six months younger than Hyunjin–than Jisung. Yet, they all had experience with dangerous situations. Despite Hyunjin’s appearance, Minho knew he was stronger than he looked, and would stay by Minho through everything. He’d been the one to drive them away from the gang all of those years ago when Younghyun had broken Minho out. Now it was Minho’s turn to save him, and Jeongin.

 Minho kept one arm around Jeongin, trying to keep him calm. “I know, I’m sorry, Jeongin. This is all my fault,” he whispered to him. “I’ll get you out of here, and we can go home.”

 Jeongin nodded softly, refusing to make eye contact as he sniffled quietly. Hyunjin traded places with Minho easily, and without question, pulling the youngest in for a hug as Minho walked the short distance to Woojin, who was remaining by the door.

 Before Minho had a chance to say anything, Woojin hissed out, “Where’s Jisung?”  
   
 Minho’s heart dropped, but he met Woojin’s eyes honestly. “He’s still in his room.”

 Woojin scowled at Minho, eyes flickering to the door. “You _left_ him?”

 Minho’s face flushed, ashamed, and his heart hurt. If he’d had the choice, he never would have left Jisung. Not in a million years. Minho shook his head. “He has my gun,” he said, but even he knew that that wasn’t much of a consolation. “I didn’t want to, but I thought Jeongin and Hyunjin were alone–what’s going on?”

 Woojin ran a hand through his hair. “There are people in the house,” he said. “We’re not sure how many.”

 Minho furrowed his eyebrows. “Why are you up here? Where are Chan and Seungmin?” he asked. “How the hell did you even get up here?”  
   
 “Slow down,” Woojin hissed. “And stay quiet,” he added as a warning. Minho pursed his lips, irritated, but motioned for Woojin to continue. “Chan knew the second they came into the house. We’re still not sure how they did it–Chan’s fucking pissed. We stayed in our room for a couple of minutes, we didn’t want them to know anyone was awake. When someone came into the room, Chan and I took him down.” Woojin’s eyes shot to Jeongin, still sitting on the bed and crying silent, and leaned in, lowering his voice even more. “No one heard us take him down, he didn’t make any noise, but we didn’t know how long it would be until the others noticed.”

 “How many people are in the house?” Minho asked.

 Woojin shook his head. “Including the one we took down? We think a total of five.”

 “Then they’re outnumbered,” Minho said. “By a lot. We could easily take the rest of them out.”

 Woojin gripped Minho’s arm, like he was scared that he was about to storm out of the door. “Chan was pretty sure they had weapons,” he said. “At least knives, maybe guns. And right now the only guns we actually have in the house–” Woojin sighed. “There’s one in Changbin’s room, the rest are locked up, except for yours, apparently.”

 Minho’s hands clenched into fists. Everything in him was telling him to go back to Jisung’s room, but he wasn’t sure if he could risk leaving the room again. It was easily visible from the stairs, and if there were really as many people in the house as Woojin thought, then it was more than likely that he could be seen leaving. He hated it, but it was probably safer for everyone to stay where they were, at least until they could come up with a plan. Minho blinked up at Woojin, who looked like he was thinking the same thing.

 “How did you get up here then?” Minho asked.

 Woojin sighed. “It wasn’t easy. We didn’t really know how much time until they went through rooms, but Chan and I realized, just like you did, that there was no one here with Jeongin and Hyunjin. We waited until it sounded like the footsteps were on the other side of the house, and then I left. We hoped that if they saw me, they’d just think it was the missing member.”

 Minho cursed under his breath. That was a stupid plan. “Did anyone see you?”

 Woojin shook his head. “No, and no one heard me either. I’m the first person up the stairs all night, as far as I know.”

 “What about Changbin and Felix?” he asked.

 Woojin’s face fell a little. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was already too dangerous coming up here, I don’t want to risk opening the door again. At least now we have the advantage of surprise if they try to come in.” He stood up straighter, schooling his face into something more neutral. “Changbin is good, though. I’m sure he’s aware, and if anyone opens that door, they’re a dead man.”

 Minho nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”

 It was quiet between them for a long moment, both of them listening for any other signs of movement in the house. Minho glanced at Woojin’s focused face out of the corner of his eye. “Why don’t we just fight?” he said. “We probably outnumber them.”

 Woojin looked hesitant for a second, before he shook his head. “We have to be smart about this. Seungmin is working on locating the everyone, but it’s going to take a little while longer, he has to hack our security cameras.”

 “He has to _hack_ them?” Minho asked, shocked.

 “When he got in the car accident he had to switch laptops. Most of his information we got back, this we didn’t,” Woojin whispered.

 Frustration boiled up in Minho. “Why didn’t he get that back weeks ago?” he hissed. “Don’t you think your own security information is important?”

 Woojin glared back at him. “He was trying to get information on the _Sharks_ , he was a little preoccupied,” he hissed. “We didn’t even realize we’d lost access to our cameras until now.”

 “Fuck,” Minho cursed, putting his head in his hands.

 Woojin opened his mouth to say something else, an irritated look on his face, when they heard a thump. They froze.

 “What was–” Minho whispered.

 Woojin shook his head, indicating that Minho shouldn’t talk. They stood still, barely breathing as they continued to listen. Minho’s mind ran wild. That sound–did it come from one of the rooms? It was definitely upstairs. His heart stopped when another thump came, louder, and he made direct eye contact with Woojin, both of them knowing that it _had_ to have come from Jisung’s room.

 Minho felt sick, fear running through him. He didn’t think he’d ever been this scared. His throat closed off, but he was holding his breath anyway. If someone was in the room with Jisung– _fuck_ , Minho _told_ him to shoot. No questions.

 Minho reached for the door handle, not even thinking. Woojin caught his arm, shaking his head again. He looked almost as scared as Minho felt, but the message was clear. _You can’t go._

 Minho almost let go of the knob, almost sat and waited, looking back at a terrified Jeongin and Hyunjin, but then the sound of a gunshot tore through the house, decimating the silence that had taken over them for so long. Minho’s heart stopped entirely. He couldn’t think of anything else. He tore his wrist from Woojin’s grip, about to leave, before someone grabbed him from behind, hugging him.

 “Jeongin, I–” Minho choked out.

 “I know, hyung,” Jeongin whispered. “It’s okay. Be careful. We love you.”

 Minho’s chest ached, but he reached up to squeeze Jeongin’s hand. “Keep them safe,” he told Woojin. He didn’t wait for his response before he was easing the door open once again, a sense of deja vu overcoming him. He barely checked that the hallway was clear before he broke out into a run. All he could think was _Jisung, Jisung, Jisung._ He _had_ to be okay, he would never forgive himself if he’d left him and he was hurt. He had to be okay, he–

 The door to Jisung’s room was wide open, light from the open window blinds spilling out into the hallway. Something was wrong, so wrong. He pushed past the door, eyes falling on two figures. In the dim lighting, he couldn’t make out more than the fact that they were both still, but the sound of labored breathing filled the room, but it was only coming from one of the figures on the floor.

 “Jisung?” Minho breathed, terrified to voice the name, too scared he wouldn’t get a response.

 There was no answer for a long, horrible moment, and Minho let out a sob, forgetting about needing to be quiet, thinking the worst, until a small voice said, “Minho?”  

 Minho’s eyes finally adjusted, and collapsed to the floor, crawling towards the figure closest to him. He was about to gather him in his arms when he stopped himself, realizing for the first time that there was a thick puddle of blood surrounding both figures. “J-Jisung?” he said, his voice soft, unsure. The relief from before was melting away, replaced by something darker. He couldn’t shake the feeling of something be terribly, terribly wrong. “Jisung, where’s the blood coming from?” he whispered. He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he desperately, but carefully pulled the younger boy onto his lap. “ _Jisung_ ,” Minho repeated, his voice stern with fear. “The blood–where is it coming from?”  
   
 Jisung sobbed, shaking his head and burrowing his face into Minho’s shoulder.

 Desperate, Minho pulled back, searching Jisung for wounds. The younger boy was crying, trying to cover his face with bloody hands. Minho grabbed his hands, lacing their fingers together both for comfort and to gently tug them away from his face so he could really look at him. His eyes flickered over his body wildly, and for a second, Minho couldn’t find anything wrong, until his eyes landed on the dark patch of blood spreading over the right side of his shirt.

 “Fuck, Jisung,” Minho hissed, hesitantly pressing his hands over the wound. Jisung cried out, and Minho felt guilty, but he kept putting pressure on it. “How long have you been bleeding?” he demanded. Jisung didn’t respond, and Minho was scared. “Jisung! Talk to me. _How long_ have you been bleeding?”

 Jisung shook his head. “I don’t know,” he choked out. “But–”

 “Sh, don’t talk, okay,” Minho whispered, carefully pulling him closer. “You’re going to be okay, I’m _not_ going to lose you, we’re going to get Changbin, and–”

 “Hyung, I killed him,” Jisung said, cutting off his mad rambling. His voice was small, breathy, as he was still breathing heavily. “The blood–”  
   
 Understanding fell on Minho, and his eyes shifted to the other body in the room. He’d almost forgotten about it in his hurry to make sure Jisung was okay. Most of the blood on the floor was originating from the body. Minho gave Jisung a tentative look, silently searching for permission to look at his wound. Jisung didn’t say anything, tears still flowing down his face, so Minho gently lifted Jisung’s shirt. The stab wound was pretty bad, still bleeding, but no where near what Minho had thought it was. A small sense of relief washed over him, even as he felt sick looking at the body. He kept putting pressure on the wound, trying to keep it from bleeding more, using his other hand to guide Jisung’s head to rest over his shoulder–away from the body. “Don’t look, Jisungie,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

 Jisung’s fingernails dug into Minho’s arms as he held onto him tightly, body trembling with his sobs. Minho shushed him, knowing that it had to hurt to cry. They’d forgotten entirely about being quiet, and all he could do was pray that Chan and Woojin were taking care of the situation. Their door was still wide open.

 “You told me to shoot,” Jisung whispered. “I–I hesitated. I thought maybe it was you coming back, or that it was all a misunderstanding, but–” he cut himself off with another soft cry, burrowing into Minho’s neck for comfort. “I’m sorry, hyung. I’m so sorry. He pulled a knife on me and I–I–”

 “Hey,” Minho whispered, heart aching as he held Jisung. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm him. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I never should have left you.” He pressed a kiss to Jisung’s forehead, but he didn’t think the younger was aware of the action.

 Jisung cried for a long time, before he quieted and whispered. “Where’s Chan-hyung? I–I want Chan-hyung.”

 Minho’s stomach dropped, guilt creeping over him. If he’d known Jeongin and Hyunjin were going to be safe–he never would have left Jisung. He didn’t know what he could do to bring Jisung back, make him stop crying, make him feel safe and cared for. He was already terrified about his wound, still holding it as they sat there. Jisung’s sobs had stopped, but Minho could still feel him shaking in his arms, tears leaving wet patches on his t-shirt.

 “I don’t want to be a killer,” Jisung said, after he’d calmed down more. He was eerily silent now, and when Minho leaned back to be able to look into his eyes, the usually bright shine was gone, replaced by something dull and sad. “He didn’t deserve to die. I’m a killer.”

 Minho didn’t even realize he’d started crying until a tear slid down his cheek, feeling choked. “Jisung, listen to me. You’re not a killer, okay? It was self defense, you were in danger. He _stabbed_ you.” Looking down at the blood on his hands and the pain that Jisung was obviously trying to keep under control, Minho was _happy_ the man was dead. He would’ve killed the other guy himself if he’d had the chance, and, now, the only thing stopping him from killing the other imposters in the house was Jisung, clinging to him like a lifeline. He took a deep breath, trying to stamp out his anger.

 Jisung shook his head rapidly, and Minho hated that he didn’t believe him. He held his face with one hand, directing the younger boy to look into his eyes. “You’re not a killer,” he said again. “It’s not your fault, okay?” This sounded familiar, so much like when Jisung was reassuring him about Younghyun’s death. He closed his eyes against the memory, grip tightening on Jisung. He didn’t want to lose him, too. He _couldn’t_. He wished he was good with words, the way Jisung was. Jisung could tell him anything, and say it with that smile and those bright eyes, and Minho would believe it. Minho didn’t know what to say, had always been a person of action. He looked at Jisung, realizing the younger boy was still staring at him, face blank, but sad. Minho’s heart tugged painfully.

 “You know what you are?” he said, not sure where he was going with this, just that he _needed_ to bring some life back into Jisung’s eyes. “You’re the most stubborn, amazing, beautiful, and breath-taking boy in the whole world. You drive me _crazy_ , but you always make me smile, and I–” Minho cut himself off. _And I love you_. He swallowed at the realization, freezing. This was the worst possible second to realize–his hands were covered in Jisung’s blood, the latter barely registering the conversation. But Minho just wanted to hold him, tell him it was okay. Fuck, he loved him so much.

 Jisung had started crying again, quiet tears that fell down his face slowly. Minho gently wiped them away. “Look at me, Jisung,” he whispered, voice soft. “You’re not a killer, okay?”

 Jisung blinked, biting his lip and looking like he was going to argue. He turned his head, trying to shift around so he could look behind him once again, where the body was. Minho panicked, using his free hand to direct his head back to him, head forward. Jisung whimpered, scared, and Minho did the only thing he could think of, pulling him into a kiss.

 It was soft and slow. Jisung barely responded, just clung to Minho as the latter did all of the work, moving his lips slowly over Jisung’s. He kept it light, innocent, his only purpose to distract Jisung, give him something to focus on. He pulled back after a minute, pressing his forehead to Jisung’s as they simply breathed. “You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than anything. “We’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” Jisung repeated, his voice shaking softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry
> 
> But! Minho's point of view!!! It was fun to write, I definitely think it could be a little bit more Minho, but I'll probably write more in his point of view in the future. Also this completely unedited and I lowkey was going to write more but I wanted to leave it here because it felt like a good stopping point. 
> 
> Tell me what you think of this chapter! (I'm not really sure if I should've taken it a different way, maybe with less crying or something I don't know but it's something)
> 
> Hope everyone is having a great weekend and avoiding all of the drama :(( (I really love Chan, he deserves so much more than this). Happy Easter to those who celebrate it!! Happy weekend to those who don't!!!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited because I'm tired but also impatient and wanted to get it up, so enjoy!! :)

Minho wasn’t sure how long he held Jisung, but it wasn’t long before the boy in his arms passed out. Minho tightened his grip on Jisung, getting more worried by the second. The wound on his side hadn’t stopped bleeding, even though Minho was continuously putting pressure on it, and the longer they waited without doing anything, the more dangerous it got for Jisung.

 He hated not knowing what was going on–it was obvious that everyone was awake now; the gunshot could’ve woken up the whole neighborhood, if it weren’t for the fact that it was basically abandoned. He was almost certain he’d heard shuffling downstairs, followed by a couple of thumps, but that could’ve been anybody. All he could do was pull Jisung as close as possible. If anyone came into the room, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

 It took a couple of minutes for him to carefully shift Jisung, reaching across the room to where Jisung must’ve thrown the gun after it fired. He finally got his hand around the handle, pulling it close to him. He aimed it at the door, and waited.

 Not even five minutes later, he heard footsteps down the hallway. They were loud, confident, and Minho tensed. Whoever was walking like that didn’t expect a fight. He cocked the gun, holding his breath as a figure appeared at the door, flipping the light switch. Minho flinched, and the only thing that stopped him from pulling the trigger without hesitation was the slight recognition–the shape, though he saw it for a brief second, was short and muscular, and also aiming a gun at him.

 “Fuck, Changbin,” Minho groaned, closing his eyes against the light. It almost seemed out of place. The night itself had been dark, dangerous, and the light seemed to counteract all of that, and there was a small reassurance in that. He put the gun down, feeling at least a little relieved. If Changbin was here, that meant that everyone in the house was aware of the situation, and, judging by the lack of caution he’d taken coming down the hallway, Minho figured that the attack was over.

 When his eyes adjusted, Minho saw Changbin clearly. He was frowning, glaring daggers at Minho, eyes flickering to Jisung, bleeding and unconscious in Jisung’s arms and the body behind them.

 “Get up,” Changbin growled, his voice cold.

 Minho’s eyes widened, suddenly uncertain. Changbin had yet to put the gun down. “Changbin,” Minho said warily, subconsciously tightening his grip on Jisung. “What’s going on?”

 “ _What’s going on?_ ” Changbin hissed. “Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ , Minho? We just fucking got attacked in the middle of the night in a house that no one knew about. Except you.”  
   
 Minho narrowed his eyes, trying to ignore the urge to grab his gun again. Picking that up right now would only make him look worse, and Changbin didn’t look like he was willing to talk this through logically right now. “You think I did this?” Minho asked incredulously.

 “Who fucking else?” Changbin said.

 “Why the fuck would I give the location of this house away?” Minho replied, his voice raising. “In case you forgot, I was _in_ the house. Along with Hyunjin and Jeongin, you think I would put them in danger like that?”

 Changbin was quiet for a moment, watching Minho like a stray dog, angry and distrustful. Finally, he said quietly, darkly, “Nobody touched their room.”

 Minho’s heart stopped. “So they’re okay?” he whispered, ignoring the implications of what Changbin was saying.

 “Everyone’s fine. No thanks to you,” Changbin snapped.

 Minho’s frustration flared up, and he scowled at Changbin with all the poison he could muster at the moment. “Fuck you,” he said, staring at the barrel of Changbin’s gun. “You think I’d betray you guys? Fine. But you think I’d betray Jisung?” His voice was dark, furious, and, for the first time, he saw a look of doubt cross Changbin’s face. “And you’re wrong, not everyone’s fine,” Minho said, his voice cracking, anger melting quickly. “Jisungie, he–”

 Changbin’s face dropped, and he looked away from Minho, eyes focusing on the boy in his arms, pale and small. He stumbled to his knees faster than Minho had ever seen him move, leaving the gun on the floor without a second thought. “Jisungie?” he whispered, reaching forward to hold the boy’s head between his hands. “What the _fuck_ happened?” he demanded, wild eyes looking up desperately at Minho, tears filling them.

 “I–” Minho started, startled by the sudden change in Changbin. “I don’t know, I think he got stabbed, and–and he had my gun, so...” he trailed off, indicating the dead body behind them.

 “Where the hell were you during all of this?” Changbin accused.

 Guilt settled deep in his chest, but he did his best to meet Changbin’s eyes. “I–I was in Jeongin and Hyunjin’s room. I thought–I didn’t know if someone was going to be there to protect them if–”

 “Woojin risked his _life_ to be there to protect them,” Changbin spat. “You fucking _left_ Jisung. God, he’s never even used a gun against a person, he doesn’t even like them. This is your fucking fault.” Changbin was actively crying now, running a hand through Jisung’s hair.

 Minho’s heart broke. Changbin had only told him what he already knew, he  _knew_ it was his fault that Jisung was hurt, both physically and mentally. He should’ve been here for him. If he’d only known that Jeongin and Hyunjin had been safe.

 Without saying anything, Changbin stood and left the room. Shocked, Minho waited, wondering if he was going to come back, or when. He understood being left here, but he didn’t think that Changbin was going to leave Jisung’s side any time soon.

 His questions were answered when a couple minutes later, Changbin came back, a first aid kit in hand. He wasn’t crying anymore, and he was standing straighter, staring at Minho with a look of almost hatred. “Put him on the bed, then get out,” Changbin said, leaving no room for argument.

 Minho adjusted Jisung in his arms, careful not to hurt or irritate the wound on his side, before standing slowly and shakily. He laid Jisung on the bed gingerly, heart beating as he stepped back, already hating not being close to him. He stood at the doorway, watching as Changbin sat down on the side of the bed, lifting the younger’s shirt to look at the wound.

 Changbin began to place gauze on it to clean it, before he shot a glare at Minho. “I told you to get out,” he said.

 Minho tensed. “I’m not leaving him.”

 “You already _did_ ,” Changbin said, seething. “And now you can fucking disappear for all I care because you will _not_ hurt him again. Now. Get. Out.”

 Minho didn’t move. “If this was Felix, you–”

 Changbin tensed, and Minho thought that if he hadn’t been busy tending to Jisung’s wound, he probably would’ve lunged at Minho. “Don’t you fucking dare say his name. It almost _was_ Felix. If I hadn’t woken up–” Changbin took a deep breath. “Get out, now. Leave this fucking house, and never come back. If I see you again, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

 “I didn’t _do_ this!” Minho spluttered, desperate. “Can’t you see that? I _never_ would have put him in danger, I lo–” he cut himself off, trying to breathe.

 “I don’t give a shit,” Changbin spat back quickly. “If you loved him, you wouldn’t have left him.”  
   
 Minho’s chest ached, and, despite his pride, his eyes filled with tears. He turned his head away, unable to hold Changbin’s eyes. He was right. He took a deep breath, but it was shaky. He took one last look at Jisung, small in his bed, and all he wanted to do was lay next to him, card his fingers through his hair. He wanted to hear Jisung giggle, the pretend to complain about his hair being messed up. But he didn’t get to have that–why did he ever think he could? They were gang members, this wasn’t a cheap romance. He didn’t get a romance, he didn’t _deserve_ a romance. When Jisung woke up, he would probably hate Minho. And he would deserve it, all of it.

 “Take care of him for me,” Minho muttered.

 “You don’t get to ask that,” Changbin snapped, not even turning around to look at Minho as he sterilized a needle. Minho flinched when he began to thread the needle through Jisung’s skin. “He’ll be fine,” Changbin said, after a moment of silence. His voice had softened, and Minho wondered if this was a moment of pity or if he’d simply been talking to himself.

 Minho backed out of the doorway. Changbin, despite his anger and accusations, was right about almost everything. The attack–it wasn’t Minho’s doing, but everything else was his fault. He _should_ leave.

 Minho walked with a purpose, his decision already made. The lights downstairs were already on, and no one was upstairs or in their rooms anymore. He found most everyone in the kitchen, all of them looking up immediately when he walked in. He must’ve looked a mess–blood on his hands, hair a mess, his face set. His eyes scanned over everyone in the room, frowning when he didn’t see who he was looking for.

 “Where’s Chan?” he demanded.

 Woojin blinked, and Minho tensed, wondering if he shared the same beliefs as Changbin pertaining to Minho’s guilt. “He’s on the phone with someone, in his room. He said not to disturb him.” It was impossible to read Woojin, except that he seemed to trust Minho. “Jisung–is he okay?” he asked after a pause, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

 Minho’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “He’s hurt, but he’s going to be okay. Changbin is with him right now,” he said, eyes drifting to Chan’s room distractedly. “There’s a... person in his room, though,” he added, choosing his words carefully as to not upset Jeongin, who was already on edge from the events of the night. “It’s probably best that that is, um, _dealt with_ before he wakes up.”

 Woojin’s eyes were concerned, but there was a certain understanding in them that Minho recognized and appreciated.

 Minho nodded, for lack of anything better to do, eyes scanning the other members in the kitchen, faces solemn and dark. He turned without a word, walking to Chan’s room and opening the door. Chan turned around when he entered, raising an eyebrow. He’d obviously just finished his phone call, and despite the calm that was written across his face, Minho could tell he was furious, barely holding on to his emotions. Minho didn’t blame him.

 Chan sighed. “Minho, I know it wasn’t you–”

 “I want to join the Strays,” Minho said before Chan could even finish.

 Chan blinked, but he didn’t look entirely surprised. He ran his eyes over Minho–face stone and determined, eyes dark. Chan shook his head. “No.”

 Minho narrowed his eyes, scowling, and crossed his arms. “Why the hell not?” he snapped.

 Chan sighed. “Jisung–he’s okay?”

 Minho ran a hand through his hair carelessly, pacing the room. “He fucking _killed someone_ tonight, Chan. _No_ , he’s not okay!” he said, trying to keep his voice down so the others didn’t hear him.

 Chan flinched. “But–”

 Minho took a deep breath, knowing he had to stay calm, no matter how hard it was. “Changbin is stitching a stab wound in his side right now. It bled a lot but it wasn’t too deep.”

 Chan breathed a sigh of relief, sitting down heavily on the side of the bed. “Everyone’s okay,” he said. “Everyone’s okay.”

 Minho fumed. “Did you not hear me?” he hissed, lowering his voice as he shot a look at the still-open door. “Jisung killed someone. He wouldn’t stop calling himself a killer, I could barely get through to him. Does that sound okay to you?”  
   
 “I know!” Chan yelled, eyes blazing as he glared at Minho. “It’s fucked up, but I’m trying to figure out how this happened, and what to do next! Someone could’ve died tonight, Minho. I’m just trying to catch up.”

 Minho’s mouth set in a tight line. “I want to join the gang,” he repeated.

 Chan’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head again. “No, Minho. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 “Why the fuck not?” Minho snapped.

 Chan’s eyes flared. “ _Don’t_ speak to me like that right now,” he said, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “You don’t want to join the gang, Minho. You just don’t want to be separated from Jisung.”

 “What’s the difference?”

 “ _What’s the difference?_ ” Chan repeated incredulously. “God, you really know nothing do you? Let me put this into perspective for you. Would you die for Jeongin?”  
   
 Minho furrowed his eyebrows, not sure where Chan was going with this. Still, he played along. “Of course.”

 Chan nodded. “For Hyunjin?”

 “Yes, Chan, where are you going with this?”

 Chan’s eyes darkened seriously. “Would you die for Jisung?”

 Minho’s mouth snapped shut, and he turned his head so that Chan couldn’t read the expression on his face. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He still didn’t trust all of the Strays entirely, and while they all knew about his weakness for Jeongin and Hyunjin, they didn’t know just _how_ weak he was for Jisung. He never wanted anyone to know that. But, in his haste to protect him, he’d been careless. Of course Chan knew–it was written in the panic and desperation on his face when he’d run into the room and asked to join the gang without thinking. Minho’s jaw clenched, but he answered honestly. “Yes.”

 Chan nodded again. “But you wouldn’t die for any other Stray,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and Minho knew he wasn’t supposed to answer, Chan knew well. “You can’t join a gang based on the loyalties to one member. And I don’t let a member join before I know that there isn’t anything that they wouldn’t do for the gang–that there isn’t anything I would do for them. It’s a mutual relationship.”

 Minho bit his tongue, forcing himself to stay quiet.

 “You _hate_ gangs, Minho,” Chan said. “I can't fully trust you yet.”

 Frustration welled up in Minho, and he was going to argue, but it suddenly melted away. Chan was right. He was completely right. Minho almost wanted to cry, but he pushed the feeling down. He nodded. “Changbin, he–he told me to leave,” Minho said, meeting Chan’s eyes warily. “He thinks the attack was a betrayal on my part.”

 “That doesn’t surprise me,” Chan said, shaking his head. “Seungmin got the cameras working a little bit after the gunshot went off. Turns out the attackers weren’t carrying any guns, only knives, probably for the sake of being quiet. When the gun went off–Jisung, I’m guessing?–the other two intruders fled. I wish I’d gotten to them first,” he said darkly. “Everyone came down here when I told them it was safe, but Changbin immediately went to your room. He always acts before he thinks.”

 Minho groaned, putting his face in his hands for a second. “If he thinks I’m a traitor, he might not be the only one,” Minho said groaned, putting his face in his hands for a second.  If we’d known they were so easy to take down, we could’ve fought back,” he added, referring to the intruders.

 “I hate what they did, but I’m still glad we didn’t. I don’t want to risk any more injuries,” Chan said carefully. “Because we’re retaliating. _Tonight._ ”

 Minho blinked, shocked. “What?”

 Chan nodded, dead serious. “Let’s go to the kitchen, I was going to tell everyone at once.”

 In a bit of a daze, Minho followed Chan out to where the others were sitting, talking in hushed voices. Hyunjin’s arm was wrapped tightly around Jeongin. Minho took notice that the youngest looked a lot calmer than he’d been earlier, laying against Hyunjin and holding on to Felix’s hand.

 Chan sat down at the table, and Minho hesitantly took the chair next to him. He knew that Chan was a little crazy at sometimes, but it was usually a healthy level of insanity. But planning an attack in little more than twelve hours? Minho wasn’t sure how he was going to do it.

 “I just got off the phone with Jackson,” he said, looking up at Woojin, who seemed to be the only person at the table who understood the implication of Chan’s words.

 “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Woojin asked. He didn’t seem too surprised, but his eyebrows were furrowed in concern as he took in Chan’s tired eyes, body still tense with barely contained fury.

 “They owe me a favor,” Chan said nonchalantly. “I’m cashing in. I think it’s about time.”

 “Who’s Jackson?” Seungmin inquired, asking the question that was running through almost everyone’s head.

 Chan leaned back in his chair, making eye contact with each and every person around the table seriously. “Jackson is the leader of a team in further in the city. They’re ruthless, a little bit crazy, and not loyal to any gang. And just what we need. I’m not sure how long it would take to plan a formal attack, and I’m done waiting around like sitting ducks. We’re attacking tonight, no matter what.”

 “Jackson agreed?” Woojin asked.

 “They owe me a favor,” Chan repeated, leaving it there. “The Sharks are going to expect us to take a while to recuperate from the attack. This is the best time to retaliate.”

 “We are still recuperating,” Seungmin pointed out. “Jisung won’t be able to go on a raid, that’s for damn sure. And Changbin will probably need to stay behind and make sure he’s okay, he has the best medical experience. You know that won’t make him very happy, hyung.”

 Chan nodded in understanding, but his face was still set in determination. “We’re going to be down two people, and Jisung and Changbin are pretty important when it comes to the raids, but that’s why I called Jackson. His team is powerful, I think we’re more likely to pull it off with their help, plus if we do it tonight, it’ll take them off guard. Their weapons facility is subtle, too. If we hit that, it’ll help when it comes to the real fight.”

 “I don’t know if this helps,” Hyunjin said, his voice coming from across the table almost shyly. “But I have a pretty good medical background. My mom’s a doctor, and I was studying to be one for a while. I know the basics. I can stay with Jisung.”

 Chan’s eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced at Minho, who nodded in confirmation. “That helps a lot. We’ll ask Changbin–”

 “Ask me what?”

 The whole table turned to look at Changbin, who had just entered the room. His hands were bright red, as if he’d just been scrubbing them, and Minho’s stomach flipped uncomfortably when he realized it was because he was scrubbing away Jisung’s blood. Changbin’s eyes narrowed in anger when they rested on Minho, but he didn’t say anything.

 “How’s Jisung?” Chan asked urgently, ignoring Changbin’s question.

 Minho’s heart clenched in anxiety, eyes darting to Changbin.

 Changbin’s jaw clenched. “He’s okay. He wasn’t awake for the stitches, which is probably for the best because he’s a big baby when it comes to needles,” Changbin said, forcing a small laugh. “He’s resting now, he asked to see you, but I don’t think he’s awake anymore.”

 Chan nodded shortly. “Okay.”

 Changbin sat down at the table, purposefully choosing the chair the farthest from Minho. The latter was trying to resist the urge to run up the stairs to be with Jisung. He needed to be a part of this conversation. He wasn’t going to be able to be a member of the Strays, but there wasn’t anything that could stop him from going on the raid.

 “What were you going to ask me, hyung?” Changbin said, looking at Chan.

 “We’re planning the raid for tonight. I called Jackson, and they’re going to help us,” he said.

 Changbin tensed. “Jackson? Are you sure?”

 “He owes me a favor,” Chan repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

 Changbin shook his head slowly. “Hyung, they’re... unpredictable,” he said. “They could join us on the raid, then easily turn us over to the Sharks without a second thought.”

 “I know, I already discussed all of this with Jackson. It’s going to work, I promise. You just have to trust me,” Chan urged.

 Minho wasn’t expecting Changbin to agree–the latter being hot-headed and distrustful, but he relaxed, nodding complacently when Chan asked him to trust him. Minho almost didn’t believe what he was seeing.

 Chan gestured towards Hyunjin, who stiffened in surprise, always caught off guard by being brought into the conversation. “He’s going to stay with Jisung. He has enough medical experience, and I doubt we’ll really be gone for too long. I expect to be back by morning. We’ll spend the day planning, then leave at dusk.”

 Changbin glanced at Hyunjin carelessly, and Minho was ready to defend his friend, but Changbin nodded once again. Minho huffed quietly, frustrated. Apparently, it was only him that Changbin had a problem with.

 “I’m still coming,” Woojin said, making eye contact with Chan. The latter smiled warmly at Woojin, grateful.

 “I think I’ll come along, too. You might need the tech help,” Seungmin said. “As long as I stay in the car, we should be fine.”

 Chan frowned, eyes flickering to Seungmin’s leg, still bound in a cast. It was scheduled to come off in two days, and Minho could tell that he didn’t want to do risk doing anything that could delay that. “Are you sure, Seungmin? Your leg–”

 “–is fine, hyung,” Seungmin said. His face was serious, and Minho hadn’t ever realized how mature he was, even though he was barely older than Jeongin. He was younger than Jisung, too, yet sometimes it was almost like Seungmin tended to take care of everyone else, watching after everyone else. Minho wondered how he never noticed it before–the determination in his eyes, the care in his forced smile. “They hurt Jisungie. I want to help take those bastards down.”

 Felix was scowling at the table. “I should be going,” he hissed, frustrated.

 Chan smiled sadly. “I know. When this is all over, you will,” Chan told him. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”  
   
 “I want them to pay for what they did to Jisung, too,” Felix huffed. “I don’t want to sit around here and wait for you guys to come back,” Felix’s voice cracked, but he stared at Chan challengingly.

 Chan shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Felix.”

 Felix scowled, visibly upset, but he nodded, sitting back.

 Chan sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said again, to no one in particular. “I feel like this is my fault. I was so worried about keeping everyone safe, I didn’t realize that we were in so much danger. I should’ve been able to prevent this. Jeongin, if you want to go home, we can provide safe transportation there. Or a hotel room. I’d understand if you don’t want to stay here anymore.”

 Jeongin looked up, startled, eyes shifting around the table, before he was looking down at his hands in his lap again, one of them still wrapped around Felix’s fingers. He shook his head quickly, short. “I don’t want to leave you guys just yet. I want to make sure everyone’s okay,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

 Chan nodded, eyes shining a little as he looked at the youngest. Minho could tell how much he really did care about everyone here–and he suddenly wondered how he was able to handle it, the stress of looking after everyone, trying to keep them all safe. “I’m sorry,” Chan repeated, quiet and serious.

 “It’s not _your_ fault, hyung,” Changbin spat, glaring pointedly across the table at Minho. “We obviously have a traitor amongst us.”

 Chan shot a warning look at Changbin. “I know we do,” he said carefully. “And until we find them, we’re going to be really careful about information.” Chan glanced at Minho, as if he was trying to reassure him that he knew he wasn’t the traitor.

 In a surge of confidence, and anger, Minho shot a glare at Changbin, then turned to Chan. “I’m still going, too,” he said. “On the raid.”

 “No, no way,” Changbin growled.

 “Changbin,” Chan said, running a hand through his hair tiredly. “I know how you feel, but have a little faith, please?” Chan sighed, then nodded at Minho. “We could use all the help we can get. But are you sure? I’m not sure how Jisung will feel about it.”

 Minho’s stomach clenched, remembering their conversation from just the day before. _I refuse to stay here while you go on the raid_ , Minho had said. _I really will go crazy if I have to sit here and wait, not knowing what’s happening. At least if I’m there with you, I can make sure you’re okay._ He felt guilt claw at his stomach, knowing that Jisung probably felt the same way–but that was before. He didn’t know if Jisung blamed him for leaving him, but he had to do this. He wasn’t even sure why. All he knew was Jisung was hurt because of him, and he would spend his whole life trying to fix it, if he had to. And if that meant going on the raid without him, then he would.

 Minho hated it. Leaving Jisung again. But he knew he had to do it. He looked at Chan, nodding. “Yes,” he said. “I’m absolutely sure.” He met Changbin’s glare evenly. The latter looked like he wanted to punch him, but Minho ignored the hostility, holding his eye contact as confidently as possible.

 “It’s settled, then,” Chan said. “We’re going to attack tonight. Jackson’s team will be here in a couple of hours, I suggest everyone tries to get a little bit of rest before then. You’ll need it,” he finished, knowing full well that no one would be sleeping anymore tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at writing long updates, I'm sorry!! There will probably be a chapter in between this one and the raid because I have a couple of scenes coming up and I'm impatient when it comes to writing long chapters, so that's just a bit of a heads up!!!
> 
> Hope this didn't seem to rush, and it at least made some sense? The attack might've been a little disappointing because there wasn't much action, but believe me, action is coming up. Also, more Minho POV (probably for the next 2 chapters? I don't know, do you guys like his POV?)
> 
> Anyways, as always, thanks for reading!!! Please leave kudos or comments, they always make me happy :)
> 
> (Also I swear I love Changbin so much, he's just really protective, especially over Jisung shh he's great)


	20. Chapter 20

It was a long morning. They spent the early hours trying to figure out exactly what had happened, how the Sharks had gotten in–even though they didn’t–and cleaning out Jisung’s room. Minho didn’t want to ask what Chan and Changbin did with the body, but within an hour it was out of the room and most of the blood had been cleaned up.

 Even though Jisung’s injury made it difficult to move him, they’d unanimously agreed that he shouldn’t remain in that room. Woojin and Chan had carefully carried Jisung–the younger boy still completely out of it–into the guest room that Jeongin and Hyunjin had been sharing, because it was closest to the stairs in case there was an emergency.

 Minho desperately wanted to go into the room and see him, but Changbin hadn’t left the room all day, and basically growled at him like a guard dog any time he stepped foot near the door to his room. Minho would argue, but a small part of him–the guilty part–knows that it might be better to keep his distance, at least until he comes back from the raid.

 Jisung had woken up about an hour or so ago, and instantly asked to see Chan again. The leader was in his room for almost half an hour before he left. When Minho, who had taken to sitting at the kitchen table and tapping it incessantly, looked up at Chan hopefully, the older smiled sadly and shook his head.

 “He’ll see you when he’s ready,” Chan said, giving Minho a look of sympathy.

 Minho was going to go crazy. He knew, deep down, that Jisung was okay, but he wasn’t sure he could fully believe it without _seeing_ him. The only thing that kept him from barging into that room and pulling Jisung into his arms was the fact that he didn’t want to make scene, which would only make Jisung more upset.

 He hated being cut off from Jisung, so close but so far away. He had no way of knowing if the boy was mad at him, if he didn’t want to talk to him, or if he wanted to see Minho just as much as Minho wanted to see him. Minho frowned at that last thought. That wasn’t very likely. But he couldn’t help wondering–why hadn’t Jisung asked to see him yet?

 Minho wasn’t stupid, he knew where Jisung’s priorities laid–the Strays. And he was okay with that, was coming to accept, and maybe even understand, it. It made sense that he would want to speak to his leader and spend time with Changbin, but it had almost been two hours. The last time he’d seen Jisung, the younger was sobbing and bleeding in his arms, staining the same bed they’d shared. Minho had resigned himself to believing that Jisung must’ve been really upset to not want to see Minho.

 Minho didn’t know how to remedy that, either. He’d left Jisung, and something really bad happened. What can you do to fix something like that? Minho thought back to his attempt to join the Strays in his panic, and realized even more how right Chan was to turn him away. His loyalty was with Jisung, no one else. Still, after what happened, Minho didn’t think anything could make him leave Jisung again.

 He had so much to say, so many apologies for the beautiful boy that had somehow captured his heart, even when he’d tried so purposefully to sanction it off. But Minho wasn’t sure he really deserved to say them anymore, a part of him thought it was too late. Would Jisung even want to listen?

 Selfishly, he realized that was why he agreed to going on the raid. Originally, it was because he needed to be there with Jisung–to make sure he didn’t get hurt. But he’d gotten hurt anyways, and this was the kind of wound that Changbin couldn’t just stitch up. Now, he realized the raid was a desperate attempt to prove himself–to Jisung, to Changbin, to Chan–anyone who would pay attention. He wanted to earn the right to hold Jisung again.

 “Stop beating yourself up, Minho-ssi.”

 Minho looked up from where he was looking at the table, like he expected it to give him answers. He met Felix’s eyes, and, although the boy seemed nervous, he always had warm, honest eyes. It was something Minho had taken a liking to when he first got to the house–Felix’s sincerity. Though he never really talked to him, he felt like he could relate to him, in a sense. They both didn’t quite belong here, yet Felix had found and made his place amongst the Strays. Minho offered him a smile. “Just call me hyung, Felix,” he said, ignoring the younger’s statement. “I think we’ve all been through enough shit to drop the formalities.”

 Felix nodded. “Sorry, I’m used to formalities.” It was silent for a long, uncomfortable amount of time before the blond-haired boy cleared his throat, then gestured to the chair next to Minho. “Can I sit with you?”

 Minho blinked at the empty chair, a little surprised. He eyed Felix cautiously. “You don’t think I’m a traitor, do you?”

 Felix laughed, shaking his head. “No, hyung. I don’t. I had my fair share of being accused of being a traitor, too, remember?”

 “Right,” Minho said.

 Felix sat down next to him, folding his hands on the countertop like he was about to make a proposal at a business meeting, professional, collected. Yet Minho could tell he was nervous by the way he kept biting his lip and shifting his fingers. “Changbin is a little upset with me,” he began slowly, watching Minho’s face for his reaction.

 Minho fought to keep his face neutral, despite the level of distaste and discomfort that filled him upon hearing the name. “I think,” Minho said, choosing his words carefully, “Changbin is a little upset with everyone.”

 Felix nodded. “He has reason to be. More so than anyone.”

 Raising an eyebrow, Minho said, “How so?”

 “He and Jisung are really close. Honestly, you wouldn’t be able to tell if you just saw them in a room together. I don’t think they even realize it half the time. But I’ve seen it.” Felix sighed, leaning back in his seat. “About a year ago, there was a huge fight at the underground between Sharks and Strays, do you remember it?”

 Minho struggled to think, before nodding. At the time, he wasn’t as well known for his fighting skills, but he was still winning all his matches. The fight, however, made it impossible for him to collect his earnings, and he’d gone home with a couple extra bruises, even though he hadn’t been on either side.

 “At the time I was still a Shark, and a pretty lesser known one at that,” Felix told him. “I tended to frequent the underground looking for people to keep close to me, but I never really found anyone I trusted. When that fight broke out, I ended up caught in the middle of it. At the time, it was terrifying–I was barely a Shark, I knew no one, so no one had my back. But I remember looking at the Strays and thinking they were unified. There was a certain amount of order to their chaos. I think that’s why they won the fight.”

 Minho blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”

 “I remember the exact moment that I realized I couldn’t be a Shark anymore,” Felix said, his voice dropping lower. “Even before they did what they did. It was the reason I trusted Chan so easily when he found me after I ran away. I remember being on the outer ring of the fight. The Strays were easily outnumbered–they usually are–and in the center of it all is Changbin and Jisung, throwing punches like it was the easiest thing in the world.” He laughed a little, eyes faraway as he thought. “It was like a movie scene–they were smiling, back to back. For a minute, I think I stopped just to watch them. But then Jisung went down, and I saw the exact moment that Changbin realized what happened. His smile dropped and his eyes got this–this _look_ in them. Dark and deadly. I’ve only seen it a couple of other times, one of them being this morning. Before Chan got back to the fight with reinforcements, I think Changbin must’ve taken down at least five more people before he was beaten down, too. Still, he didn’t leave Jisung for a second.” Felix sighed again, looking directly at Minho. “That’s why I ended up joining the Strays. For that loyalty.”

 Minho’s heart clenched, and he had to look away, unable to meet Felix’s honest gaze anymore. “I see why they’re close,” he said. “Changbin–he’s surprisingly protective of those he cares about.” Minho could understand that, and he thought he might have a little more in common with Changbin than he thought, even if the other boy hated him.

 Felix gave Minho a thoughtful look. “Changbin’s a fighter. He has a lot of fire in him, and he’s quick to anger, but he’s faster to protect,” he said carefully. “He’s not a bad guy, hyung. I know you know that, but I think I needed to say it. He loves the Strays more than anything, and that will always be his priority.”

 Minho nodded. “I think... I understand that,” he said. He thought for a second, then spoke before he even realized what he was going to say. “And Jisungie has a heart of gold. He gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, even when he probably shouldn’t.” He chuckled. “Like with me. Honestly, I don’t think there’s a single person he wouldn’t put himself out on the line for.” Minho looked up at Felix with a serious expression. “That’s what scares me.”

 “You scare him, too, hyung,” Felix said, his voice the softest it’s been.

 Minho’s eyes widened, confused. “How so?”

 Felix shook his head. “Not in a bad way,” he told him. “I think you should talk to him, before you go on the raid, otherwise it could be too late.”

 “He doesn’t want to see me,” Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair.

 “No,” Felix said, smiling softly at him. “He doesn’t want to worry you.” Felix stood up from the table, stretching and looking down at Minho casually, like they’d just shared gossip over breakfast as opposed to the conversation that still hung over their heads. He began to walk away, before he turned around to look at Minho seriously one last time. “Talk to him, Minho.”

 “Wait, Felix,” Minho called after him, holding the other boy back. “You said that Changbin was upset with you–what did you do?”

 Felix smiled somewhat mischievously, shrugging a little. “I defended you, hyung,” he said. “Now, in about five minutes, I’m going to ask Changbin to help me with something in the living room. So if you want to talk to Jisung without a fight, I suggest slipping into the room during that window of time.”  
   
 Minho raised an eyebrow, watching Felix walk away, amused. For a second, he thought of ignoring Felix’s offer, thinking it might seriously be better to wait to talk to Jisung. Just until after the raid. But something about what Felix said made him rethink that. If he didn’t talk to the other boy now, he didn’t know when he’d get the chance to again.

 So when Changbin and Felix came down the stairs, murmuring to each other intensely, Minho offered them a smile as they walked by. Changbin sent him a glare over his shoulder and Felix winked at him impishly, almost making him laugh.

 The second they were out of Minho’s line of sight, he was hurrying up the stairs, heart pounding. The guest room door was shut when he approached it, and he hesitated for a long time before he knocked softly. There was no response and Minho sighed, wondering if he should just leave.

 It was ironic, he’d been in endless fights, but _this_ is what terrified him. He wasn’t good at this, he didn’t know how to handle his feelings, how to tame them. He felt more like they were going to take him over, destroy him from the inside. This sense of protection was familiar–similar to how he felt about Hyunjin and Jeongin, how he had felt about Younghyun–but also drastically different.

 He gathered himself, taking a deep breath to banish his thoughts and opened the door slowly, peeking his head in. His eyes were immediately drawn to Jisung, asleep in his bed. Minho smiled softly at the sight, closing the door behind him. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that the other boy was asleep. He had so much to say to him, but he guessed it could wait. They had time.

 He sat down on the bed next to Jisung, admiring the peacefulness on his face. He’d give anything to keep that innocence on his face. Something heavy settled in his chest, and he sighed, eyes roaming from Jisung’s long eyelashes, casting pretty shadows onto his flushed, plump cheeks, down the slope of his nose to his lips, drawn in a cute little pout. Minho’s heart clenched. He loved Jisung. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was true. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for him.

 He reached forward, brushing the hair back from Jisung’s eyes, then let his hand trail softly down his cheek. He ran a finger of Jisung’s lips briefly, before he caught himself, almost embarrassed at the action. He returned to his hair, running his fingers through the strands gently.

 Jisung hummed, content. “That feels good, hyung,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

 Minho smiled softly, continuing to comb through his hair. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he whispered.

 Jisung blinked his eyes open, his gaze falling on Minho. “ _‘Baby?’_ ” he questioned, eyes light with mirth.

 Minho froze, blushing a little. He hadn’t even realized the word had slipped out of his mouth, he’d been too focused on how perfect the boy had looked, calm and pretty. He shook off the embarrassment, regaining his confidence. “Hm,” he hummed, tugging on Jisung’s hair playfully before he ran his fingers through it again. “Don’t like it?”

 Jisung bit his lip, cheeks going pink before he turned his head to the side. “I’m a gang member, you know that right?”

 “Mhm,” Minho affirmed, smirking a little.

 Jisung let a small smile grace his face before it fell again. “What are you doing here, hyung?” he asked, looking at Minho with wide, concerned eyes.

 Minho’s hand stilled, and he moved to pull it back, but Jisung was quicker–grabbing his wrist and tugging his hand back towards him, placing it back on his head with a pout. Minho blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’re a big bad gang member,” he said, but continued playing with his hair nevertheless.

 “Shut up,” Jisung hissed, but there was no venom in his voice.  
   
 They were quiet for a while, but Minho could tell Jisung wanted to say something, worrying his lip and eyeing Minho a little cautiously. “What is it, Jisung?” he asked.

 Jisung frowned, before his face smoothed out into a serious look. “When I asked what you were doing here–I didn’t mean it like–like _that_. I just know that there’s a lot going on and I just didn’t–I figured you would be–”

 “I’ve been trying to see you all day,” Minho said honestly. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.” His words were careful, and he watched Jisung’s face for any sign that the words did have some truth to them.

 Jisung shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly. “I wanted to see you. But I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Jisung looked away, shy.

 Minho furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “Like what?”

 Jisung groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. Concerned, Minho leaned forward, gently grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from Jisung’s face to he could properly look at him. “Jisung?” he prompted. “Like what?”  
   
 Jisung huffed, turning his face so he still didn’t have to look in Minho’s eyes. “I don’t know!” he said, frustrated. “Weak, I guess? I mean– _fuck_ –you already saw me breakdown and in pain and you were so worried. I didn’t want you to worry about me anymore, and–” he sighed, glaring down at his sheets, “–I can’t even _get out of bed_. I feel pathetic.”

 Minho frowned. He didn’t say anything, simply pulled the blanket back and slid under. He was cramped to one side, since Jisung was laying in the middle of the bed and he didn’t dare move him, but Minho adjusted himself until he was as close as possible to Jisung, then lightly guided the other’s head to look at him. Jisung’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, wide with insecurity. “Hi,” Minho whispered.

 Jisung blinked. “Hey.”

 “You’re beautiful, you know that?” Minho said, his voice shaking.

 Jisung swallowed heavily, eyes wide.

 “I’m sorry,” Minho said, voice suddenly quiet.

 “For what?” Jisung breathed.

 Minho met Jisung’s eyes, and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. He lifted a hand to run a thumb across his cheek, watching Jisung’s face calm instantly, the latter closing his eyes and sighing. “I left you,” he said. “And you got hurt. And you–”

 “Don’t,” Jisung said, his voice suddenly sharp. “I don’t want to think about it.”

 Minho’s heart clenched, and he felt sick with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

 Jisung’s eyes softened, and he shook his head, pressing his face into Minho’s hand. “That’s what this is about?” he asked, voice careful. “You think this is your fault?”

 Minho nodded. “I had a bad feeling–I _knew_ something bad was going to happen. Woojin was with Jeongin and Hyunjin when I got there. I should’ve–”

 “Stop, hyung,” Jisung said, voice suddenly stern. “We didn’t know that Woojin was with them. If they were alone, they wouldn’t have been able to defend themselves. And you would’ve been putting yourself in danger by coming back to my room. This isn’t your fault. I told you to go; I don’t regret it.”

 “But–”

 “No,” Jisung said, cutting him off. “It’s _okay_. We’re okay. You said that, remember?”

 Minho wanted to say something else, to fight what Jisung was saying. He wanted the younger to scream at him. He didn’t want Jisung to forgive him because he couldn’t forgive himself. But he stopped himself from saying anything when he saw the look Jisung was giving him–understanding and full of an emotion that Minho didn’t dare try to name. Instead, he nodded. “I did say that.”

 Jisung looked relieved, smiling softly, eyes flickering over Minho’s face. His smile dipped into a tight frown. “Hyung, have you slept?” he asked, concern evident on his face.

 Minho blinked, looking away sheepishly. He wasn’t used to others looking after him so closely, and he sure as hell was unaccustomed to the pure worry on Jisung’s face. Still, he shook his head honestly. “Couldn’t,” he replied.

 Jisung’s eyes saddened. “Hyung–”

 “It’s okay,” he said hurriedly, trying to erase the younger’s worries. He had enough to deal with right now as it is. “No one’s really slept. We’re all waiting for some people–a guy named Jackson, I think?”

 Jisung tensed, but nodded. “Chan told me after I asked to see him.”

 Minho gave him a curious look. “What did you say?”

 Jisung sighed, looking at the ceiling. “I told him it was an insane idea,” he said. “Jackson’s team isn’t the most reliable group, but he does owe Chan a favor. I trust Chan, I just hope he knows what he’s doing.” Jisung groaned, looking at Minho again. “I asked to see him so I could talk to him about you.”

 Minho tensed, biting his lip. He thought back to his last talk with Chan–his desperate attempt to do something. He’d barged in and demanded to join the Strays. He tried to shrug that off, hoping desperately that Chan didn’t tell Jisung about that. It would probably crush him.

 When Minho didn’t respond, Jisung frowned and continued anyway. “I had to tell him that it wasn’t you,” he said. “That you’re not a traitor.” Jisung chanced a glance at Minho. When he still didn’t say anything, Jisung added, “He said he already knew that.”

 Minho hummed. “He may know that, but I’m pretty sure Changbin is out for blood.”

 “Oh, Changbin definitely has it out for you,” Jisung said with a laugh. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he’s pretty determined.”

 Minho raised his eyebrows. “Is this amusing to you?”

 Jisung instantly stopped laughing, clearing his throat. “No,” he said. “It’s just–Changbin is like that. It took him months to trust me after Chan introduced us. But I understood. For the longest time, it was just those two, and then all of the sudden, I was a part of their lives. It was a big change.”

 Minho frowned. “This is different.”

 Jisung nodded. “Different, yes. But no less difficult.” Jisung looked at him seriously. “Probably even more difficult. Changbin just wants to protect us all. He’s scared, he just won’t admit it. And you’re the easiest target to lash out on. He’ll realize soon.”

 “Realize what?”

 Jisung grinned almost childishly. “How amazing you are, duh,” he said, completely breaking the tone of the conversation.

 Minho rolled his eyes, but pressed himself closer to Jisung. “How’s your side?” he asked carefully, knowing that his wound was on the side further from him.

 Jisung’s face dropped, but he forced a small smile. “Frustrating,” he said. “I hate feeling useless, and I haven’t been able to leave my bed all day.”

 “As it should be,” Minho said. Jisung glared at him, and Minho shook his head, leaning up to place a kiss to Jisung’s forehead. “You should rest so you don’t hurt yourself more.”

 “Oh, like you did when you were hurt?” Jisung quipped, pouting.

 Minho chose to ignore the younger’s sly comment. Instead, he leaned up on an elbow, then moved his hand across the bottom of Jisung’s t-shirt. “Can I–?”

 Jisung’s hand shot out, catching Minho’s wrist. Minho froze, immediately stopping as Jisung looked at him with wide eyes before blushing and slowly loosening his grip. “Sorry, I’m just–”

 Minho shook his head. “It’s okay. I understand,” he said. When he tried to pull his hand away, Jisung’s grip tightened around him once again, and Minho looked up at him, confused.

 Jisung blinked, cheeks flushing even darker. “No–I mean, yes, I want you to–” he huffed, frustrated, but let go of Minho’s hand.

 Minho’s hand hovered over his stomach, unsure. Jisung watched him, the panic that had flashed through his eyes previously gone, replaced by something else Minho couldn’t determine. Minho pulled the blanket back, pushing it down the bed. He watched Jisung carefully, waiting for any sign that he wanted him to stop. When Jisung met his gaze evenly, Minho swung a leg over Jisung’s thighs, so that his knees rested on either side of Jisung’s legs. He was almost straddling the younger, but he was holding up most of his weight, not wanting to hurt him. Once again, he fingered the hem of Jisung’s shirt, looking up at him through his lashes to ask permission.

 Jisung nodded, and Minho bundled up the bottom of the shirt, pushing it up as high as it would go, until Jisung just huffed and pulled it off the rest of the way, tossing it to the floor. He looked up at Minho almost challengingly.

 Minho chuckled, thumb rubbing over the bare skin of Jisung’s waist on the opposite side of his wound. He hadn’t looked down yet, too scared to see it. Instead he watched Jisung’s face, smirking. “Remind you of anything?” he asked.

 Jisung flushed. “No,” he said, too insistent.

 Minho raised an eyebrow. “No?” he asked teasingly. “Because I remember a very similar situation, from just a couple of weeks ago...”

 “ _No_ , hyung,” Jisung groaned, embarrassed.

 Minho laughed to himself, enjoying this way too much. He leaned forward, mouth hovering by Jisung’s ear. “What did you say then?” he hummed.

 “ _Minho,_ ” Jisung said, stressing his name in frustration.

 “Hm,” Minho hummed into his neck. “Do you remember, Jisungie?”

 Jisung whined a little, shaking his head.

 “No?” Minho laughed. “Should I remind you?”

 Another shake of the head.

 “Just lay back and let me do all the work,” Minho said finally, quoting what Jisung had said all that time ago. He placed a kiss on the younger’s neck, light and innocent in contrast to their conversation.

 “I hate you,” Jisung groaned.

 Minho grinned in satisfaction, turning his attention to Jisung’s side. His smile immediately dropped, and his eyes shot up to meet Jisung’s. The latter was giving him an unsure look, eyes wide and insecure. Minho’s heart pounded, and he was filled with so much anger at whoever did this to Jisung. He would fucking _destroy_ the Sharks because of this.

 “Minho?” Jisung asked, voice small.

 Minho realized his face must have been giving away his emotions, and he fought it away, glancing back down at the wound. The bandage around it was dark red, some of the blood having seeped into it. The skin around it was dark, bruised. “Oh, Jisungie,” Minho breathed, fingers lighty trailing over the skin around it.

 Jisung’s breath hitched. “It–it looks worse than it is,” he said, a little choked up. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have looked at it–”

 Completely oblivious to Jisung’s rambling, Minho dipped down, pressing the lightest kiss to Jisung’s side–right above the wound. And another above that, then rested his forehead on Jisung’s stomach, closing his eyes tightly. He didn’t even realize that he was shaking until Jisung hand entangled itself in Minho’s hair, combing it softly.

 “Hyung, I’m okay,” Jisung whispered. “I’m safe.”

 “I know,” Minho said. “I know.”

 “Hyung,” Jisung said again, his voice becoming more urgent. “It’s okay.”

 Minho just nodded, head still pressed into the soft skin of Jisung’s stomach. Looking at Jisung’s wound had been too real. He could’ve lost him, forever. Minho would never have forgiven himself if anything happened to Jisung. Words caught in his throat, and he choked on them. He wanted to tell Jisung he loved him, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t deserve Jisung, not yet. He made a promise to himself to tell Jisung after the raid. To have a more serious conversation with him.

 Jisung pulled lightly on Minho’s hair. “Hyung, can you–”  
   
 Minho looked up at Jisung–his eyelashes wet with unshed tears, still a little unsure–and Minho leaned up, slowly capturing his lips. Jisung hummed happily, and Minho’s heart jumped, deepening the kiss. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he wanted to, but he tried to convey all of it through this one kiss, pouring everything into it.

 When they pulled back, Jisung eyed him carefully, licking his lips. “What–?” He looked confused, like he knew there was something different in the way Minho had kissed him, but he didn’t know what it was.

 Minho smiled lightly at him, kissing him once more before pulling away and laying down next to him again. He pulled Jisung as close to him as he could without hurting him. “Rest, Jisungie. You need it.”

 Jisung frowned. “Only if you do, too,” he responded, but his eyes were already heavy.

 Minho hummed noncommitally. “Sleep, baby,” he said.

 “Play with my hair,” Jisung muttered, eyes closed.

 Minho snorted. “Needy,” he said playfully, but he didn’t hesitate to start running his hands through his hair.

 “Thank you,” Jisung said, voice soft and growing more slurred the more tired he got.

 “For what?”

 “For staying,” Jisung said, adjusting his on Minho’s chest, so he was laying right above his heart. “For not leaving.”

 Minho’s hand faltered for a second, before he continued his movements, hoping Jisung hadn’t noticed. He was quiet for a minute, not sure what to say. “Of course,” he whispered back. “Always.” He didn’t really know what Jisung was referring to–did he mean in general? Or today? Minho sighed, choosing to ignore it. The boy was exhausted.

 Jisung was fast asleep within minutes, and Minho watched him for a long time. He wished he could pinpoint the exact moment that Jisung had started to mean so much to him, but the past weeks were such a blur.

 Minho felt lighter, holding Jisung in his arms, but that didn’t entirely change the way he felt. Jisung deserved so much more, and their world wasn’t exactly the most forgiving when it came to love. Still, Minho could prove himself. He might not be a part of the Stays, but he was going to make damn sure they trusted him, because they meant the world to Jisung.

 As if on cue, the door opened, and Minho glanced up to see Changbin, glaring at Minho. His eyes flickered back and forth between him and Jisung. Minho met his eyes evenly, tightening his grip around Jisung ever so slightly. Changbin’s face soured even more, and he looked away. “They’re here,” he said, his voice clipped. “If you want to be a part of this raid, you have to come down.”

 Minho’s stomach dropped, and he looked down at Jisung, the boy’s face pressed to his heart. He’d wanted to be here when Jisung woke up, but it was getting late. He sighed, shifting ever so slightly, carefully pulling away until he was out of the bed. He looked at Jisung one last time, hair splayed across the pillow, looking suddenly small in the bed, before he walked up to Changbin. He waited for him to say something, any kind of biting comment, but he just glanced over Minho’s shoulder, then back up to Minho, jaw clenched. “Let’s go,” he said, leading the way out of the room and down the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This? Is longer than I meant it to be. I was originally going to continue and have more happen in this chapter but then the Minsung scene just kind of wrote itself and got way too long so I decided to cut it off here so I could update tonight. But it's probably a good thing there's such a long Minsung scene. 
> 
> Sorry if it's a little chaotic, Minho is all over the place but I was trying to convey all of his emotions so sorry if it's kind of messy. Anyways, I'm testing all week, so I'm not sure when I'll be writing, but I'll definitely try to get another chapter up within the next week!! More action in the next chapter, I promise!!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!! All kudos and comments greatly appreciated :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late but it's also long so??? hope that makes up for it!!!
> 
> Also I officially hit 200 pages on Word Perfect and that Blows My Mind

Minho decided very quickly that Jackson’s gang was borderline insane. They were loud, and a little chaotic, and he had to wonder how Jisung managed to sleep through all the noise. Minho met them all when they first walked in–there were five in total. Jackson Wang, the group’s leader, Kim Namjoon (who Minho suspected did the majority of the actual leader business), Moon Byulyi (who looked innocent, but, honestly, Minho was a little terrified of her), Lee Jooheon (who was definitely crazy), and Im Jaebum (who Minho thought was the most normal, but there was a certain aspect of him that made Minho think it was a good idea to stay on his good side).

 Night fell quickly. It had only been several hours since they’d started planning, but the sky was beginning to darken, along with everyone’s moods. What had started out as a rather light-hearted, if not uncomfortable, meeting, was rapidly becoming more serious.

 Minho hovered by the stairs, biting his lip anxiously as he stared up the stairs. He was about to go up, when he was met with Jeongin. He almost ran into the younger, as he was running down the stairs rather quickly. Jeongin pulled himself to a stop right before he slammed into Minho, eyes wide. “Oh, hyung!” he said, a little short of breath from his running. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

 Minho raised an eyebrow. “It’s a big house, Jeongin-ah, lots of people. You should probably be more careful on the stairs.”

 Jeongin nodded quickly, about to pass him, but, again, he stopped. “If you were going up to see Jisung-hyung, he’s still sleeping,” he told him. “Hyunjin is with him. I told him that Jisung could probably be left alone now, but you know Hyunjin.”

 Minho smiled a little at that. He did know Hyunjin. His friend had always been like that–even when he was impossibly angry, he was empathetic and loving first. It didn’t really surprise him that Hyunjin wanted to stay with Jisung just in case. “Thank you, Jeongin,” he said.

 “Hyung?” Jeongin said, and Minho turned around to see look at him, worrying his lip, eyes wide in nervousness. “You’ll be careful, right?”

 Minho tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

 Jeongin huffed, frustrated. “You’re all about to leave for the raid, right?” he prompted.

 “Oh,” was all Minho said. He smiled softly at Jeongin, reaching forward to pull the boy in for a hug. Jeongin instantly relaxed, wrapping his arms around Minho’s back and hiding his face in his shoulder.

 “I don’t want you to go, hyung,” Jeongin muttered. “It’s not safe.”

 Minho hushed him, running his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t rare for them to be this affectionate–Jeongin liked to cling to his hyungs more than he let on, and, despite the persona Minho built for himself, he rather liked the younger’s affection. Still, Minho wasn’t the one who typically initiated it, and he found his heart aching just a little, knowing that Jeongin was scared. It was bad enough that he’d had to experience the attack, and now the raid was looming over him. Jeongin was aware of what the Sharks could do–having witnessed both the aftermath of Minho’s fight with them, and the terror of the attack. “I’ll be okay, Innie,” Minho said, ruffling his hair a little. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He pulled back, holding Jeongin’s shoulders, and looked into his eyes. “We have to make them regret it.”

 Jeongin nodded, and Minho appreciated that the younger was at least trying to understand. Minho knew that Jeongin wasn’t exactly the revenge type, and would probably rather not be around violence at all, but he didn’t mention anything about it. “Just make sure everyone comes back in one piece, yeah? Even Changbin-hyung,” Jeongin added with a half-hearted smirk.

 Minho chuckled, hugging him one last time. “We will, promise.” Minho grinned a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Even Changbin.”

 Jeongin softened at that, a small smile decorating his lips. “He’s not a bad guy, hyung,” he said. “I think he just really cares about his team.”

 Minho laughed, messing with Jeongin’s hair again so that it stuck up. “I know, Innie. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay, yeah?”

 Jeongin ducked away from Minho’s insistent hair, giggling lightly. He nodded. “Just hurry home. I love you, hyung.” Jeongin grinned wickedly. “Maybe not as much as I love Hyunjinnie-hyung but–”

 “You’re a little brat, you know that?” Minho said, laughing. “Go, get out of here.” He watched Jeongin walking away fondly, the younger laughing evilly the whole way.

 Minho glanced up the stairs once again, debating whether or not he should go up anyways, even though Jisung was asleep. The others were eating a last minute dinner in the kitchen, but Minho didn’t think he could eat anything right now. He could hear the collective voices, carrying down the hallway. Jackson’s team was a loud bunch, and, though Minho didn’t entirely dislike them, they were hard to get used to.

 He sighed, deciding he might as well go up to Jisung’s room, knowing that he’d at least be able to say goodbye to Hyunjin.

 When he quietly opened the door of the room, he found Hyunjin hunched over in the chair that Changbin had pulled up to the bed, on his phone. He glanced past Hyunjin for a brief second, feeling comfort in the knowledge that Jisung really was resting peacefully, hair splayed out softly on a pillow and face tucked into his pillow. He smiled a little at the sight, then turned to Hyunjin.

 Hyunjin raised his eyebrow at him, obviously having seen the way Minho looked at Jisung. “Do you want me to–”

 Minho cut him off by shaking his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to wake him up. Besides, I was kind of hoping to talk to you.”

 Hyunjin frowned, shooting a doubtful look at the sleeping boy. “Should we leave?”

 Minho chuckled fondly, shaking his head. “It’s fine, we can talk here. He could sleep through a hurricane.”

 Hyunjin smiled in a response, a knowing look in his eye. “You really love him, don’t you?” he whispered, dropping his voice just in case.

 Minho blinked, taken aback. Hyunjin was his best friend, it didn’t really surprise him that he could read him like a book, but he was still embarrassed–and anxious–about how easy it was to tell his feelings. Slowly, he nodded, looking away. “Yeah, Hyunjin. I do.”

 Hyunjin leaned back in the chair. Minho had expected him to be upset, to scold him about the consequences of dating a gang member, and how his life was already fucked up enough. Yet, Hyunjin’s eyes only held curiosity, if not a little worry. “Why him?” he asked.

 Minho’s head shot up, shocked. “What do you mean?” he said, stumbling over the words rather eloquently.

 “Why him?” Hyunjin repeated with a shrug. “I’ve known you a long time, hyung. When we lost Younghyun, I honestly wasn’t sure what was going to happen. You blamed yourself for a long time.”

 Minho furrowed his eyebrows, a little confused. “Yes, but it took you a while to forgive me, too,” he said, making sure his voice held no venom. He was trying to put Younghyun’s death in the past–he’d been carrying the regret for a long time, and it had been weighing him down. He knew he would always miss his friend, but, at the same time, he realized that Younghyun would’ve wanted him to live.

 Hyunjin tilted his head. “Hyung, I never blamed you,” he told him, like it was obvious. “I was upset, sure. I was mad at everyone. But I never blamed you.”

 Minho’s heart beat faster, a sudden hope making him feel light. For years, he’d been trying to make it up to Younghyun, to himself, and to Hyunjin. And here the youngest was, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. Minho almost didn’t believe it. He frowned, suddenly unsure. “Hyunjin, I joined that gang, it was my choice.”

 Hyunjin gave him a sad smile. “And it was Younghyun’s choice to save you,” he said. “Nothing would’ve stopped him, Minho.”

 Minho took a shaky breath, but tried to return Hyunjin’s smile. “I miss him,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Everyday.”

 “Me too,” Hyunjin agreed. He held his hand out, a simple, quiet sign of comfort, and Minho wordlessly took it. They were silent for another long moment, both in thought, probably reminiscing, until Hyunjin broke it again. “You shut everyone out for so long, hyung. Jeongin and I–for the longest time it was just us. Why him?”  

 Minho was quiet for a while, looking almost longingly at Jisung, fast asleep. He was still curled up in the position he’d fallen asleep in, as if Minho’s arms were still around him. Minho wasn’t sure why, either. He remembered the first time he ever saw him in the café, when he was living with Miss Yoon. There didn’t seem to be anything particular special about him at the time–he was just a kid that looked as lost and scared as he felt. And sad. Still, Minho had seen a lot of troubled people over his years, and he held no sympathy. Maybe it was because he’d seen him at his lowest point, and there was something that told him to go to Jisung, and he never did. Maybe it was because he didn’t see him for almost two years after that. Maybe it was because when he did see him again, Jisung was out of his reach. He was a gang member–and there was nothing more impossible for him than that. Yet, when Minho had seen Jisung in that alley, he was instantly drawn to him, recognizing him as the boy from the café, but not the same boy at the same time. Minho had been intrigued at how much stronger the boy looked, the amount of life and energy that seemed to flow through him, easily throwing Minho off his feet.

 Minho sighed, looking at Hyunjin. “I honestly don’t know,” he said, softly. “He’s just... Jisung.”

 Hyunjin looked at him for a long time, then nodded. “What are you going to do?”

 Minho’s face fell and he sighed again. “I almost joined the gang.”

 Hyunjin almost fell out of the chair in his attempt to straighten up, shocked. “What the fuck?”

 Minho laughed. “I know. I wasn’t really thinking straight. My point is that I don’t know what I’m going to do, Hyunjin. All I know is that I’m going on this raid, and the Sharks are going to pay. After that, I have no clue.”

 Hyunjin leaned forward, serious. “Actually, I was going to talk to you about that. Does Jisung know you’re going on the raid?”

 Minho tilted his head. “That’s always been the plan. Why?”  
   
 Hyunjin bit his lip, glancing at Jisung, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “That was the plan before last night,” he said, searching Minho’s eyes with a purpose. “I was talking to him earlier... I don’t think he thinks you’re going.”

 Minho frowned, suddenly remembering his own words from the night before. _I know you think I’m crazy for putting myself in danger for you guys,_ he’d said. _But I refuse to stay here while you go on the raid. I really will go crazy if I have to sit here and wait, not knowing what’s happening_. Minho’s heart fell, and he realized Jisung probably did think that he was staying here. He realized that Jisung would probably feel the same way. 

 “Should you–” Hyunjin began, concerned.

 “No,” Minho said hurriedly. “Don’t wake him. He needs his rest.” It was selfish, Minho knew, to keep Jisung in the dark, but he’d deal with it when he came back from the raid. If Jisung asked him to stay now, Minho wasn’t entirely sure he’d have the strength to refuse him. And he knew that he _had_ to go on the raid. If he didn’t, there would be no hope for proving himself.

 Hyunjin seemed to understand this, as he didn’t press him further. “What should I tell him when he wakes up?”

 Minho shook his head. “Just tell him I’m sorry and I’ll see him soon,” he said.

 “Minho!” Chan’s voice came from down the stairs, and Minho tensed.

 “That’s my cue,” Minho said, smiling at Hyunjin. “Take care of Innie. He’s trying to stay strong, but I know he’s scared.”

 Minho was almost out the door before Hyunjin called his name, effectively stopping him. Minho turned, confused, to look at the younger. “Yeah?”  
   
 Hyunjin grinned a little, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Don’t die. Asshole.”

 Minho rolled his eyes, returning the smile. “Have you met me?”

 They both laughed, and Minho left the room. That was one of the things he loved about Hyunjin so much. Compared to Jeongin, they weren’t always the most affectionate friends, but he knew Hyunjin cared about him, in his own way, and vice versa. There wasn’t anything Minho wouldn’t do for him–Jeongin, too.

 At the bottom of the stairs, he was met with the rest of the group. Chan rested a hand on his shoulder, eyes questioning. “Ready?”

 Minho nodded. “Of course.”

—

 It was fully dark by the time their van pulled onto the curb. Minho had thought the vehicle was just a bit too cliche–with two doors that opened in the back to a cleared space where Seungmin, Woojin, and Jisung sat. Chan had driven, and Changbin sat shotgun; it was obvious that everyone was trying to keep Changbin and Minho away from each other for as long as possible. Jackson’s team had driven separately, as they would be leaving right after the raid.

 At a knock on the van door, Minho opened it to Jackson and Namjoon, the pair stepping in and closing the door. Minho assumed the other three were waiting outside, keeping watch.

 Chan twisted in his seat, taking in the people in the back of the van one by one, eyes lingering carefully on those who weren’t a Stray. He nodded to Seungmin. “Are we close enough for you to take out the cameras?”

 “We should be,” the younger replied, pulling his laptop over his lap and beginning to work. It was moments like these that Minho wished he was more technically advanced, and he sat back, feeling useless as he attempted to avoid eye contact with anyone in the van.

 Chan unbuckled, walking forward until he was crouched next to Seungmin, watching over his shoulder. “How long until they’re down?” he asked.

 Seungmin shook his head. “It’s not the actual process that’s a problem,” he said, typing furiously. “But there’s a lot of cameras. I can deactivate them, but if someone’s watching, they’ll be suspicious.”

 Chan frowned. “How many are there?”

 “Twenty-three,” he said. “As far as I know.”

 Chan took a deep breath, thinking quick. “Alright. Then someone stays here with you and communicates with those on the inside. We’ll deactivate them and move them as they go. Hopefully that’ll buy us more time.”

 “They’ll still notice,” Minho pointed out.

 Chan nodded. “We just need time,” he assured. “As long as we can keep them busy with camera problems for half an hour, we’ll be fine.”

 “You should stay here then, Chan,” Woojin spoke up, looking seriously at his leader. “If anything happens to you, the Strays will fall to ruins.”

 Minho looked at Woojin, realization suddenly settling in when he finally noticed the way Woojin had spoken and the protective look on his face, hiding a flash of worry that Chan might not listen to his advice. Minho almost laughed out loud in pure surprise. He wondered how he didn’t see it before.

 “Namjoon will stay as well,” Jackson said, and Minho jumped a little. He’d almost forgotten that there were other people in the van. “He’s good with computers. The more people operating them, the better.”

 Chan settled Jackson with a cool look, and Minho decided right then that he respected Chan more than he ever thought he would. Jackson was an imitating man, strong with sharp features, and when he spoke, it was commanding. But Chan met it evenly, and, even though Minho had only known Chan for a short amount of time, he could tell that he didn’t entirely trust Jackson. Minho also decided that Chan was smarter than he’d thought.

 “I can buy you more time,” Namjoon said confidently.

 “Very well,” Chan said. “We need all the time we can get. Seungmin also has a layout of the building. It’s bigger than we thought last night, which is both an advantage and a disadvantage. Anyone in there is going to know the layout better than us, so if you see someone shoot.” Chan was quiet for a moment, letting his words settle in, before he added, “Don’t shoot to kill.”

 “The Sharks won’t be that kind, Chan,” Jackson warned.

 Chan nodded. “I know, but we’re not killers,” Chan said, looking directly at Minho.

 Minho tensed, thinking about the way Jisung had shook in his arms, crying, choking out that he didn’t want to be a killer. When he thought about the way the Sharks had hurt him, Minho thought that he wouldn’t mind killing them. He probably wouldn’t even flinch. But then he imagined the look on Jisung’s face if he ever found out–he shuddered. No, Minho wouldn’t kill anyone if he didn’t have to. Minho clenched his jaw, looking away.

 Though they already had a plan, Chan went over it with them multiple times, making sure everyone understood. They were going to split into groups when they got inside. Jackson and Jaebum remain outside the building, making sure that no other threats were coming, and watching for guards. Byulyi and Jooheon would accompany Changbin, Woojin, and Minho inside the building, but they were going to split off beforehand, leading anyone inside away from the other three, whose only goal was to steal as much as they could with the time they had. The rest they would destroy.

 Lee Jooheon, it turns out, was surprisingly good with explosives. The Strays didn’t question it, but Minho, Changbin, and Woojin all had small bombs that they would set and use when they were far enough away, perfect to destroy the rest of the weapons in the building.

 As the group discussed last minute plans, Minho zoned out. He still felt out of place amongst the two groups, knowing that he was the odd one out, had no loyalties to either. If anything were to happen, Minho had no reason to expect that anyone would care for his safety. He sighed. It was probably better like that, less people would be in danger if he was the weak link. He tried not to think pessimistically, but he knew that not everything could always go as plan.

 He wondered if Jisung was awake. He wondered if he hated him for leaving without saying anything.

 “Minho?”

 Minho looked up, making eye contact with Chan, who was giving him a concerned look. “Yeah?” Minho responded.

 “Are you ready?” Chan prompted.

 Minho glanced around, realizing the van door had been opened and he was the only one left inside that was going on the raid. Minho swallowed heavily, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

 Chan furrowed his eyebrows at him. “Minho, are you sure you want to do this? I would understand if you want to stay here.”

 “Why would I want to do that?” Minho asked, confused. Staying behind was the last thing on his mind.

 Chan shrugged, sitting next to him. Outside the van door, Minho heard Changbin groan, but Chan ignored it. “I understand that you’re doing this for Jisung, but he’s safe now. This isn’t going to be like anything you’ve done before, Minho. It’s not just a street fight, this is so much more dangerous. Look, what I’m trying to say is–”

 “I’m going,” Minho said decisively. “Thank you, Chan, but nothing you can say will make me stay here.”

 Chan looked like he wanted to say more, but he closed his mouth, nodding slowly. There was a look in his eye that Minho couldn’t place, so he ignored it.

 Minho stood, throwing one last half-smile over his shoulder before he climbed outside of the van. The second he set foot on the ground, Changbin pinned him with a glare. “Don’t fuck this up,” he hissed. “Chan may trust you, but I know there’s something wrong here. So just stay out of the way.”

 Minho threw Changbin a cool look. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he told him. “Well, we’re all here to cause trouble, technically.” Changbin didn’t laugh, and Minho cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I just want to do something, Changbin. That’s all.”

 Changbin walked ahead of him, shoving at his shoulder as he went. “That’s the problem. It’s too late.”

 Minho sighed heavily, watching him go. He wondered if Changbin would ever trust him, or if he would be stuck with the other boy hating him forever.

 “Lee Minho-ssi, is it?” a voice came from next to him.

 Minho had to struggle not to groan in frustration, wishing people would stop doing that. He turned, fighting back an eyeroll, to see Jackson walking next to him, eyes hard and focused on the building farther in the distance.

 When Minho didn’t respond to him, Jackson continued, not looking too offended. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 “Yeah?” Minho responded simply, only half listening. He could feel the annoyance bubbling up in him, but there was something about Jackson that made him feel small, like he was an open book just for him to read.

 “We could really use a guy like you on our side,” Jackson said, glancing at Minho out of the corner of his eye, casual.

 Minho stopped walking for a second, fixing Jackson with a critical gaze. The older man was casual, but there was a hint of something darker in his eye. Minho stared at him for a long second, forcing him to slow his walk and wait for him. “I’m not looking to join any gangs or groups, Jackson-ssi,” he said, not unkindly but sharp enough to ensure that there was no room for interpretation. “I’m here for one reason, and one reason only.”

 “Han Jisung-ssi?” Jackson said, like it was obvious.

 Minho’s face didn’t change, he just narrowed his eyes, trying not to give anything away.

 Jackson waved his hand. “Don’t give me that look, Minho-ssi. It’s not hard to pick up, I was only at the house for a day and I felt the tension. Don’t worry about it,” Jackson said darkly. “We all have weaknesses.” Despite the ominous words, he smiled at Minho.

 “And what’s yours?” Minho asked, curious to hear his reaction, knowing that he wouldn’t get a legitimate response.

 To Minho’s surprise, Jackson laughed, loudly, causing Changbin to turn a glare on them. Jackson didn’t seem phased, he just eyed Minho curiously. “I’m a leader, Minho-ssi. Every leader’s weakness is their team. There isn’t anything that we wouldn’t do for them.”

 Minho nodded, not entirely sure he understood. That was a lot of people, a big weakness. But Minho knew that if anything happened to anyone in the Stray house, Chan would absolutely lose it. He pictured the way Chan’s jaw had set last night after the attack, how quickly he’d put a plan in action, even as he’d been on the fence for weeks. And this was a risky operation–it suddenly dawned on Minho that Jackson’s team was on the raid because they were dispensable to Chan. Not in a bad way, he didn’t think, but if they were hurt during the raid–which wasn’t impossible, the plan wasn’t exactly solid–it wouldn’t be Stray blood spilled.

 Jackson seemed to see this realization on Minho’s face, and he grinned, a little dangerously. “I owed Chan a favor,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t put my team first, still.” He gave Minho a long look, almost like a warning. “Maybe you should think about where your priorities lie, too.”  
   
 They were almost to the building, and, though something uncomfortable had settled in Minho’s chest at the older’s words, he brushed it off, forcing himself to focus on their mission.

 They approached the building from the side, and, if there had been anyone outside, they wouldn’t have been seen. However, it was strangely quiet, and there were no guards around. The area was as Minho had expected–a bad part of town. He was already on the edge, anyone they’d seen on the street could’ve been prying Shark eyes, but most of them just seemed to be addicts or people lingering on the streets late into the night. Still, he couldn’t deny the pounding of his heart as they got closer to the doors.

 “Are you guys close?” Chan’s voice came over the earpiece.

 “We’re right outside the doors, hyung,” Changbin responded. “But it’s kind of weird. No one is here. No guards or anything.”

 It was quiet for a moment, before Chan responded, voice hesitant. “Maybe they don’t feel like they need guards. There’s a lot of cameras, and, as far as I know, it’s difficult to get into.”

 “Are the cameras down outside of the doors?” Byulyi asked, eyeing the doors.

 “I’m about to take them out, but they’ll only be down for about three minutes. Byulyi-ssi, can you get the door open in that amount of time?” Seungmin asked, his voice quiet and a little unsure in the earpiece. “I set it up to make it look like a malfunction, but you only have three minutes. Tops.”

 Byulyi grinned, dangerously excited, and cracked her knuckles. “Easy, Seungminnie, easy.”

 “Okay,” Seungmin responded, and Minho almost laughed at how obvious it was that the younger was flustered over the lack of honorific. “Cameras going down in three, two... one.”

 Byulyi went ahead of the rest of them, immediately dropping to the ground to begin to work on the lock. It took longer than Minho thought it would, and he could almost feel the time tick by in the nervous beating of his heart. After what felt like hours, but was probably only around two minutes, the lock gave, and Byulyi was pushing the door open with a smirk. “And that’s how you do it, boys,” she said, swiping her hair over her shoulder with a flourish.

 Jaebum rolled his eyes. “Stop showing off,” he said, but there was a look in his eye that Minho thought was close to pride.

 Jackson looked at the others, checking his a watch that sat on his wrist. He nodded to Minho. “This is where we leave you,” he said, gesturing to himself and Jaebum. “Once you’re inside, be careful. Make sure you know where the cameras are at all times.”

 “Thank you for this Jackson-ssi,” Woojin said, nodding to the man.

 Jackson and Jaebum took post at opposite sides of the building, watching carefully from the darkness as the other five went in. Minho caught Jackson’s eye as he slid past the door, and the latter nodded at him, eyes dark.

 Once the door was shut behind him, Seungmin’s voice came back. “And the cameras outside are going back up,” he said. “What do you guys see?”

 Minho looked around, a little caught off guard. They were in a wide room, but it was dark. The only light was coming from a harsh yellow bulb farther up the hallway. There was a set of steal stairs to their left, and a long hallway to their right. He heard Changbin explain all of this over the earpiece, voice still low.

 “We should split up,” Jooheon said. “Byulyi and I will take the stairs. You guys take the hallway.”

 Woojin nodded, but not without giving him a careful look. “If you find anything, tell us. It feels too empty in here for my liking.”

 The hallway they walked down was wide. Minho felt paranoid, relaying everything to Seungmin, who was following their movements on the blueprints he had on his own computer. They reported each camera they saw, staying out of the way for the most part, and any that they couldn’t Seungmin was able to handle. Minho held his breath, feeling a kind of tense electricity between himself and Woojin and Changbin.

 “Wait!” Seungmin said, and they all flinched simultaneously at the sudden noise in their ears. “That door on your right. Go there.”

 Minho groaned in frustration when he looked at it. “Seungmin, it has a key pad.”

 “Which means it’s important!” Seungmin exclaimed proudly.

 “ _Seungmin_ ,” Woojin said, emphasizing the name to put the younger boy back on track. “Can you get us in?”

 “Hold on, let me try something,” Seungmin said. There was the sound of murmuring on the other side, before Seungmin came back. “Okay, I can’t get it open–” there was a collective sigh “– _but Namjoon-ssi can_ , have some faith in me, guys.”  
   
 “Maybe not you, but Namjoon-ssi is suddenly sounding really good,” Woojin laughed, the sound tense.

 “Okay, go,” Seungmin said.

 Minho blinked, confused. The door was still shut, with no sign of that changing. “Seungmin-ah, it’s still closed.”

 “Really?” he asked, his voice disappointed. There was a shuffling over the earpiece, then the sound of Seungmin murmuring to himself, then to someone else, and then the sound of keys. The three of them waited, impatient and nervous, until the keypad suddenly turned green.

 Changbin reached for the door again, hand settling on the doorknob. But, before he could turn it, the hallway was filled with a loud shrieking sound. Changbin’s face shot up, panic flashing through his eyes. “Seungmin, what the hell is that?”

 “I–I don’t know,” Seungmin said, his voice distressed. Minho barely heard Chan’s voice, speaking quickly to Seungmin, and the desperate sound of hands hitting the keyboard. “Fuck,” Seungmin cursed, scared. “Someone must’ve set off the alarm. The Sharks will know you’re there in a minute. They’ll probably be here five minutes, if that.”

 “Get out, get out now,” Chan said, voice hurried and panicked.

 “Hyung, we just got to the room we wanted to, give us three minutes,” Changbin argued.

 “No, Changbin, I want you out of there now,” Chan demanded, voice stern.

 Changbin looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Minho. “I’m finishing what we started, hyung. I’m sorry, I’ll see you soon,” he said, before pulling out his earpiece. He glared at Minho, then Woojin. “If you guys want to leave, then go, but I’m going in that room.”

 Woojin straightened up, giving Changin a serious look. Though Minho could tell a part of him wanted to heed Chan’s words, Woojin nodded, taking out his own earpiece. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 “Me either,” Minho said quickly, following their movements and tossing his earpiece to the floor.

 Changbin ignored him, and he pushed open the door without another second of hesitation. They stumbled into the room simultaneously, heads twisting to take in the bare walls of the room.

 Minho’s head spun.

 “It’s fucking empty,” Changbin yelled. He turned, looking at each wall like they would suddenly grow the weapons they were looking for. There was a single table in the middle of the room. “What the fuck! It’s empty!”

 Woojin cursed, then kicked the table out of frustration, knocking it over on it’s side. The alarm continued to blare around them, and Minho was suddenly aware of how little time they had. But the failure was weighing him down, and he squatted, putting his head in his hands. Why did it feel like the Sharks were always one step ahead of them?

 He pushed his hair from his face, disappointment and the feeling of being useless settling over him. Changbin rounded on him, eyes narrowed and furious. But before he could speak, Minho’s eye caught something, shimmering on the table. “What’s that?” he muttered.

 Changbin looked taken aback, the anger in his eyes replaced momentarily by confusion. “What?”

 Minho stumbled to his feet, rushing forward, ignoring Changbin’s question of “What the fuck are you doing?” Minho’s hands slid over the object, taped to the underside of the table, pulling it away quickly. “It’s a flash drive,” he whispered. He gripped it in his hand, holding tighter than he thought possible, feeling it press into his palm. He stood, looking at the other two with wide eyes. “It’s a flash drive,” he repeated louder.

 They both stared at him, feeling hope beginning to sink in again. Woojin was the first one to jump back into action. He nodded. “Right, let’s go,” he said, leading the way out of the room.

 They hurried down the hallway, not bothering to watch for the cameras anymore since they were pressed for time. The door was in sight, and they were running, and it was all too similar to Minho. He could feel the panic set in, his heart pounding. He was terrified, reminded too much of the night he lost Younghyun. He pushed himself forward, trying to push away the fear consuming his chest.  
   
 They saw Byulyi and Jooheon near the door, only making eye contact with the pair for a brief second before the pair was out the door, running down the street, quickly followed by Jaebum. Minho was the last out the door.

 A car was pulled closer to the building, driven by Namjoon, and Byulyi, Jooheo, and Jaebum all piled in. Jackson was still at the door, watching them carefully. “Chan didn’t want to move the car, he thought it was too risky, especially since Seungmin is still in there,” he said. He didn’t seem all that worried, but Minho didn’t really expect him to look after them. Like Jackson had said–his team was first. “Jooheon was able to set a couple of his explosives. He’ll activate them in fifteen minutes, so make sure you’re long gone by then.”

 They all nodded in understanding, but before anyone could move anywhere, a large truck pulled around the corner ahead of them, followed by another that skidded to a stop behind them. They were surrounded. Jackson swore, drawing his gun. Minho followed his movement, backing up until he was pressed against Changbin’s back.

 The four of them stood in a circle, facing outwards, guns drawn, as members poured out of the trucks, until they were outnumbered, three to one–all of them carrying guns.

 “Put your guns down,” one of the people surrounding them commanded, voice loud and sharp, leaving no room for argument. Still, no one moved, guns all aimed at each other. Minho’s chest tightened in fear, but he didn’t let it show. “Put your fucking guns down!” he yelled again.

 “We’re outnumbered,” Woojin muttered from next to him, stating what Minho was already thinking.

 “Down!” the man repeated. “You know you can’t win this.”

 “Do it,” Jackson hissed.

 “What?” Changbin snarled back. Minho could feel him tense up behind him. “They’ll kill us if we put our guns down!”

 “Just do it and trust me,” Jackson demanded.

 Jackson was the first to place his gun on the ground, followed by Woojin. Minho watched the older glare at the man who’d yelled at them, his eyes never breaking away. Even though they were in the vulnerable position, Woojin’s dignity and strength didn’t falter, and Minho was hit with a sudden sense of pride, standing next to him.

 Minho gripped his gun tighter, heart pounding with adrenaline, but leaned down to place it on the ground next to Woojin’s. His hand tightened around the flash drive, hoping it looked like his fists were just clenched. Changbin was the last to get rid of his gun, putting it down, but not far.

 The man who’d spoken nodded to them. “Tie them up,” he told a couple of his men, and four of them began to walk towards them.

 “Cover your ears and move quickly,” Jackson hissed to them, keeping his voice low.

 Minho didn’t understand. Confused, he looked at Woojin, who had a similar expression, but was quick to cover his ears with his hands. Minho mirrored the action.

 Time seemed to slow down, a sudden loud noise taking over them. It sounded like a thousand gunshots, and Minho’s hands did nothing to muffle the sound. It made its way into his head, ears ringing and head fuzzy with the noise. He couldn’t focus, trying too hard to blink away the sound. He had no idea what was happening–where it had come from.

 He was tugged into action by Changbin, who picked up both their guns and shoved Minho’s at him, then grabbed his arm. “Move, Minho!” Changbin yelled, but Minho barely heard it over the ringing in his ears, only saw his lips move. “Woojin, get to Chan! Don’t look back, go!”

 Minho stumbled after Changbin, head whirling around to find the others. Jackson was running in the opposite direction, past a burning car and through shouting men. Everyone looked as disoriented as Minho felt. Woojin was farther ahead of them–running faster than Minho would’ve thought possible. If he could get to Chan, they could at least get some back up. 

 They were knocked off track by three other men, though, tackled to the ground. Minho’s gun skidded out of his hand, out of reach. Changbin went down next to him. One of the men held him down, pinning the hand with the flash drive to the concrete with one hand and reaching for his neck with the other. Minho grit his teeth, focusing on keeping his fist clenched, and hand tightened around the fingers around his throat. He tried to kick up to get the man off, but the man was too smart for that, staying just out of reach. He was running out of air quickly.

 Minho panicked, scrabbling at the man’s arms with his fingernails, but the man was determined, eyes flashing angrily.

 A gunshot went off, and Minho flinched, waiting for the pain, but he realized that the grip on his neck slackened, and he could breathe easier. He blinked his eyes open–the man was gone, collapsed next to him on the ground and bleeding heavily. Minho looked up desperately, trying to find the shooter. His eyes met Jackson’s. The older man had made it to his car, and was standing outside of it with his members all piled in. Jackson lowered his gun, holding his gaze for a long moment as Minho caught his breath. There was something meaningful in the look he was giving him, but Minho couldn’t decipher it–didn’t have time to decipher it–before Jackson was climbing into the car and they were all driving away.

 Minho cursed, remembering Jackson’s words. _I owed Chan a favor. Doesn’t mean I won’t put my team first, still_ , he’d said. _You should think about where your priorities lie, too._ Finally, he was beginning to understand.

 He blinked, trying to clear the last bit of fogginess from his head, taking in the situation. The car was still on fire–Jooheon. He must’ve shot out the gas tank as a distraction. A lot of the Sharks were near it, too, which worked in their favor. Jackson’s team was long gone, but there were less Sharks around them now, some of them hardly paying attention.

 Next to him, Changbin was still struggling with one of the men, and, aching, Minho pulled himself to his feet, tugging the man off Changbin without a second thought. This, he knew. This was the fighting he was used to. He hit the man–once, twice, until he knew he wouldn’t get back up.

 Changbin stared back up at him, face bloody. They were both breathing heavily, but there was a new look in Changbin’s eyes that Minho hadn’t seen directed at him before, yet Minho couldn’t quite place it. Changbin stood slowly, glancing down at the Sharks remaining on the ground. “Do you still have the flash drive?”

 Minho nodded, looking at the simple black stick pressed into his hand. He picked his gun back off the ground. “Let’s get out of here,” he breathed.

 They turned to run again, but gunshots began to follow them. They were playing a risky game, trying to outrun the bullets. Again, Minho was reminded too much of Younghyun, of running from very similar bullers, and he forced himself to push the memory away when it caused panic to set in. He ignored the fire in his chest, reminding him that he’d never run so hard, and pushed himself forward. He turned, going to look at Changbin, make sure he was keeping up–but there was no one next to him. In Minho’s panic, he hadn’t noticed that the gunshots had ceased.

 His heart plummeted, and he turned, dreading the worst. Changbin was about ten meters behind him, on his knees, and watching Minho with dark eyes. His leg was bleeding, the dark liquid staining the fabric. A Shark was holding a gun to his head, grinning wickedly at Minho, watching the realization set in on Minho’s face. Minho aimed his gun at the man.

 “Lee Minho,” the Shark called to him. “You’re a damn hard man to get to.”

 “What do you want?” he called back, eyes shifting back and forth between the Shark and Changbin.

 “Just go!” Changbin shouted, glaring at Minho. For a minute, Minho was confused, before he realized that he still had the flash drive. “Leave, Minho!”

 The Shark watched him with genuine curiosity, eyebrows raised. For a minute, Minho wanted to turn and run back to the van, back to safety. Maybe if they came back fast enough, they could still save Changbin. Or he could stall until Chan got there–but the building was set to go up in flames any time now. Minho’s jaw clenched. Why should he stay? He had no obligation–Changbin told him to go. He had the flash drive. He had to get back to Jisung.

 Jisung.

_You should think about where your priorities lie, too._

 Jisung, always Jisung.

 He thought about the younger boy–his bright eyes and enthusiastic smile when he was telling him something, a stark contrast from the hopeless boy he’d met in the café. He thought about the boy he encountered in the alley, about how angry he was when he realized he’d joined a gang. How much his hatred for gangs consumed him, controlled him. And he thought about how it was because of the Strays that Jisung had survived, that Jisung’s eyes were bright and he had hope and he smiled and he let Minho love him.

 Minho thought about how much it would ruin Jisung to lose Changbin. He thought about how it would ruin all of the Strays. Minho realized he didn’t want that. He wanted them to get their revenge.

  _You should think about where your priorities lie._

 Minho looked at the desperate look on Changbin’s face. He remembered the disappointment on Chan’s face when he’d asked to join the Strays. How Seungmin never failed to smile, put on a strong face for his hyungs. How Woojin risked his life to protect Jeongin and Hyunjin. How Felix defended him, even though he had no reason to trust him.

 Minho’s heart pounded. Maybe his priorities weren’t just Jisung. Not anymore.

 He dropped his gun.

 The man looked genuinely surprised, but pleased nevertheless. Changbin’s face fell, closing his eyes.

 Minho approached them slowly, hand still enclosed around the flash drive. When he was in front of them, he stared at the man, trying to conjure the bravery he’d seen in the other’s faces. The bravery he knew he had. “Let him go,” he said.

 “Only if you take his place,” the man sneered. “I know someone who would be very interested in having a talk with you.”

 Minho bent down, grabbing Changbin’s hand. The man tensed, and Minho tried not to flinch at the way his finger tightened around the gun pointed at Changbin’s head. “Can’t a friend help a friend up?” Minho spat at the man.

 He tugged Changbin to his feet, pressing the flash drive into his palm. Changbin’s eyes widened in realization, and when he pulled away, Changbin’s hand closed around it securely. Minho glanced at the man, relieved to see that he noticed nothing.

 Changbin looked like he wanted to protest, but it was too late now. He had the flash drive, and there was no way he could transfer it back to Minho without being too obvious.

 The man shoved Minho to his knees, now placing the muzzle of the gun into his temple as he glared at Changbin. “Go,” he told him.

 Changbin looked at Minho one last time, and Minho tried to offer him a smile. “Tell Jeongin and Hyunjin I’m sorry, but not to worry about me,” he said. Changbin looked at him expectantly, like he was waiting for what Minho wanted to say, but couldn’t. _Tell Jisung..._ Minho’s heart ached, and he wanted nothing more than to tell him himself, to hold him in his arms again. Minho met Changbin’s eyes evenly. “Tell him, too,” he said instead, knowing he would understand.

 Changbin’s face softened, and he nodded, before it set into the hardest glare he’d ever seen. The one Felix said he’d only seen a couple of times, aimed at the Shark holding him. “You better fucking watch your backs,” he growled.

 Changbin looked at Minho one last time, a promise in his eyes that Minho held onto, before he forced himself to turn, and Minho watched him go, knowing he carried the Stray’s only hope.

 The gun to his head pressed harder, and the man was talking, but Minho wasn’t listening. He felt oddly at peace with his decision. The Strays would be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even a little edited because it's late but I wanted to get this up for you guys oOps
> 
> Idk this chapter was really difficult to write for some reason??? Like I couldn't do it for the longest time, I would sit down to write and get so distracted. I'm a little disappointed with how the action turned out, honestly, because I wanted it to be more exciting and I don't think it really is??? But everything that I needed to go down went down, so!!
> 
> I'm sorry Jackson's team has such a small role, and they kind of seem forced in there, but they were important to Minho's character development! (That's my excuse for just adding a bunch of other idols I love oops)
> 
> Thank you for reading, you're all awesome!!! Please leave comments and kudos, they make me happy :) (and they help motivate but I didn't say that)


	22. Not an Update (soon!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys :)  
> 1000 kudos!!!!

Hi guys!!! I’m sorry this isn’t an update (they’re should be one soon, hopefully in the next couple of days or this weekend), but I really wanted to say thank you!!!!

 Verbatim hit 1000 kudos yesterday, and honestly??? I’m so shocked, I seriously never even imagined that this fic would go that far. I didn’t even think that this fic would be longer than like 20k??? But now I’m over 85k words and I hit 1000 kudos, it seriously means so much to me. I’ve always wanted to write something that people will read and enjoy and nothing has made me happier than this fic. Verbatim has been a big part of my life for a couple of months now, and, though I don’t exactly know when it’ll end, I’m really excited for where it’ll end up!!!

 Just a couple of things:

 The reason there’s no update today is because I spent the weekend finishing another oneshot I’ve been working on for a while now. It features Prince Minho and street Jisung and honestly this fic is like my baby. I seriously love it so much and I’m excited to share it with you guys!!! I’ll probably post it within the next couple of hours, after a little bit more editing (which, if you know me, is surprising. I’m actually editing guys!!!!)

 Also, I think I’m going to do write another long chaptered fic after I finish Verbatim (which, again, I’m not sure when that’ll happen bUt) and, though I have a couple of ideas, I was kind of wondering what you guys think? I definitely want to write an enemies to lovers (I’m lowkey obsessed with those) and I think I want some sort of supernatural element? Maybe powers if that doesn’t sound too lame.

 So I have a couple of other projects that I’ve either been thinking about or have started working on, but I’m not exactly sure what will be completed/posted. But, just let me know what you guys think!

Last thing, I'm thinking of starting a tumblr or twitter specifically for my writing, would anyone be interested in that? I don't know, I just want to get in contact with you guys and talk to you guys, I think it would be cool!

 Again, thank you all so much for reading Verbatim. This will always hold a special place in my heart because honestly Verbatim is the longest thing I’ve ever written (I lowkey have commitment issues) and I think it will help me with finishing writing projects in the future. But, other than that, it’s been special to me because I get to share something with other people, and every single person who has read, left kudos, or commented on this fic has made it all the more special. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so, so much.

 I love you all!!!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited, as always

 

_It was dark, suffocating. He felt like he was being swallowed by shadows–he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see. His heart was beating fast, and he had the feeling that something was wrong, that something very bad was about to happen._

_He turned his head from side to side, searching for some source of light in the darkness. For the longest time, it was just him, the sound of his heart pounding, and his heavy breathing–which he tried to soften, terrified it would give him away. He didn’t know what was there, but he knew that he couldn’t be found. There was a sick feeling in his chest, settling deep and festering. The longer he was stuck there, the more petrified he was._

_Two red lights began to glow, and his heart stuttered. He held his breath, trying to make himself as quiet as possible. He wasn’t sure what the source of the lights was–or how close to him they were. He pulled his legs up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. He’d never felt so scared in his whole life. He felt like there should be someone there with him, holding him, protecting him. He felt like he was missing something._

_The lights grew bigger, getting closer, and he let out a short, desperate sob. He scrambled backwards, but there was nowhere for him to go. His back pressed against what he thought was a wall, and he knew he was cornered. The lights flickered, then came back, and he realized they were_ blinking _._

_Eyes._

_Eyes, watching him closely, getting nearer as his breathing picked up. He couldn’t escape. He sobbed loudly now, looking around for anything,_ anything _that could save him, but there was nothing. He was alone._

_As they got closer, he realized that the eyes were a part of something big. It growled, a deep, threatening sound. He was going to die. He knew he was going to die._

_Again, he felt like something was missing. Someone was supposed to be here, next to him. Where did they go? Had he lost them? Was_ he _supposed to be with_ them _? Or did the thing already make them its victim, and he was just the next to go. His heart ached with a sadness he couldn’t name or place, almost overtaking the fear that flowed through his veins._

_He let out a scream as the thing lunged, snarling, and he waited for the pain to overcome him. A gunshot went off, and he waited to die._

 Jisung jolted awake, forehead sweaty and heart racing. He couldn’t remember the contents of his nightmare, but the feelings lingered in his chest. There was an emptiness and a trace of the fear that remained in him, and he turned over in bed, reaching for the comfort of Minho next to him.

 His arm fell on empty space and he frowned, sitting up in his bed, suddenly wide awake. He spun around again when he found that Minho wasn’t in bed with him, ignoring the twinge of pain that shot through his side at the sharp action. He panicked, the feelings from his dream forcing their way into his mind all over again when he realized that he was alone. He tried to steady his breathing, trying not to seem like a child paranoid about their own nightmares, but he still sat up all the way, pushing his blankets to the floor because they were suddenly too suffocating.

 Jisung hadn’t ever minded being alone. He used to like it a lot, actually. He liked having time to himself to think or enjoy the silence. He used to be able to sit in his room for hours, on his phone or writing, until Chan had to call him down. Before the Strays, Jisung only had himself. And when he’d joined them, he had to get used to having so many people around him, especially people who were doing their best to take care of them–something that he hadn’t really ever had before.

 Now, he hated it. Every time he’d been alone since the attack, Jisung had felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he swore he relived it every time. He scrambled up in his bed, back against his headboard, and tugged his legs to his chest, like he’d done in his dream. His side burned, the pain spreading across his torso quickly and consuming him. Still, he ignored it, and pressed his face into his arms, willing himself to just _calm down_.

 He knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault. If anything, he blamed himself for not being a better fighter. Or not going with Minho when he’d left his room. He hated that he still felt like he was stuck in his bedroom, dark and afraid, waiting for someone to hurt him or those he loved. Everyone was trying to help keep him calm, especially with his still recent wound, but they didn’t know what to do.

 Changbin, especially. The older had barely left his side since the attack, and Jisung hated being treated like he was made of glass. He wondered if they had a point, though, when he found himself shaking, trying to hold back tears. Nevertheless, he’d been doing his best to act normal, and he’d thought he was doing a good job at it. No one had been able to tell that he wasn’t quite as stable as he was pretending to be.

 He tried to take a breath, tried to bring himself back down to earth. That’s what he was supposed to do, right? Keep breathing no matter what. Keep breathing even when he wanted to scream and sob and run away from the world. Keep breathing because there was nothing else he could do.

  _Where was Minho?_ He’d been with him, holding him, when he’d fallen asleep, but now he was gone, and Jisung was alone. Why did he have to wake up alone? Why did he always have to wake up alone?

 The door opened, and Jisung scrambled back on the bed again, terrified. He let out a quiet sob, hiding his face in his hands.

 “Jisung, Jisung, it’s just me,” a familiar voice said.

 Jisung shook his head, refusing to look up. All he could think about was the last time he was alone in a room and the door opened and he couldn’t _breathe_ and–

 “Jisung!”

 A pair of hands gently pulled Jisung’s hands away from his face, forcing him to look up. Jisung’s eyes met Hyunjin’s, and he quickly deciphered the expression on his face as worry. Jisung’s hands shook in Hyunjin’s grasp, his eyes stung with the effort of holding back his tears.

 “Hyunjin?” Jisung said, voice cracking.

 Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at him, gaze flickering over Jisung like he was checking for any signs of injuries. “Jisung, what’s wrong?” he demanded, voice hurried.

 “Where’s Minho?” Jisung asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.

 Hyunjin’s face fell, and Jisung tried to ignore the stab of panic in his chest. “Jisung, are you okay?” Hyunjin said, instead of answering him. “You didn’t pull your stitches, right?”

 Jisung shook his head, frustrated and scared. “Where’s Minho?” he pressed, anguished.

 Hyunjin frowned, looking everywhere that wasn’t Jisung. His eyes had a guilty gleam to them, and Jisung’s stomach dropped before Hyunjin even had the chance to speak. “Jisung, look, I–”

 Jisung let out a choked sound, shoving Hyunjin out of the way as he moved to scramble out of his bed, stumbling clumsily to his feet. His side burned, protesting the sudden movements, and he groaned in pain, but made his way towards the door anyways. If Hyunjin wouldn’t tell him where Minho was, he’d just have to find him on his own.

 “Jisung–your stitches!” Hyunjin called after him, panic leaking into his voice as Jisung ignored him and headed towards the stairs, beginning to make his way down them slowly, but determined. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

 Jisung’s face hardened, and he glared down the stairs. He felt like he was going to pass out from the pain. “I’m going to find Minho,” he said, knowing that he made no sense. There had to be a good reason for Hyunjin not to tell him where Minho was, which meant that the older probably wasn’t in the house. But, endlessly stubborn, Jisung bit his lip and continued his attempt to walk down the stairs.

 Hyunjin groaned behind him. “Jisung, can you please just come back up here and lay down? I’m supposed to be looking after you–”

 “I don’t need you to look after me, I’m obviously fine!” Jisung argued.

 “What’s going on here?”

 Jisung groaned, looking up from where he’d previously been intensely focused on each of the stairs in front of him, to see Felix blinking up the stairs at both him, and a very stressed Hyunjin.

 “Nothing,” Jisung bit out, clenching his teeth in annoyance. “I’m just trying to walk down the _fucking steps_ –”

 “He’s not supposed to be out of bed,” Hyunjin said from behind him, exasperated. “He’s going to make his injury worse.”

 Felix tilted his head at Jisung, trying to read him. Jisung focused very hard on not showing how scared he felt about now knowing where Minho was, along with the lingering fears from his dream. He felt on the verge of bursting into tears any second, but he kept forcing them down. “I just want to know where Minho went,” Jisung whispered. He let go of the railing he’d been gripping with white knuckles, and sat down heavily.

 Felix’s eyes softened, expression careful. Jisung saw his gaze flicker behind him, probably to Hyunjin, as if in question. “Minho-hyung?” Felix asked carefully.

 Jisung glared at him. “What other Minho would I be talking about?” he snapped. He hissed, the pain in his side intensifying.

 “He didn’t tell him?” Felix asked softly, looking at Hyunjin.

 “Who didn’t tell me what?” Jisung demanded.

 “He didn’t want to wake him up,” Hyunjin said lamely. “I was trying to tell him, but the idiot suddenly decided to rush out of bed.”

 “Can someone please just tell me what the fuck is going on?” Jisung said. He felt sick, his head spinning. He hated that he thought he already knew what was going on, he just didn’t want to believe it.

 Felix smiled sympathetically at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked forward until he was kneeling on the staircase in front of him, putting a hand on his knee. “Okay, don’t freak out but Minho went on the raid with the others. They left about two hours ago.”

 Jisung tensed, and he shut his eyes. “Fuck him,” he muttered. He didn’t mean it. His throat felt like it was threatening to close up, and he felt the tears again, silently flowing over. “Fuck him,” he repeated. “I fucking knew it.”

 Hyunjin carefully walked down the stairs, sitting next to him hesitantly. “Jisung–”

 “ _Don’t_ ,” Jisung hissed, pulling his arms closer to him.

 Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows in concern, glancing at Felix. “Jisung, I just want to check your stitches. You’re putting a lot of stress on your–”

 Jisung laughed harshly, abruptly standing up and walking the rest of the way down the stairs. “Stress? Believe me, my side is the part of me that is the _least_ stressed right now,” he said. He continued to fight the tears, rubbing at his eyes angrily. He didn’t even look at Felix as he passed him, instead sitting heavily on the couch in front of the window, glaring out of it.

 Felix blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

 “What does it look like I’m doing?” Jisung snapped. “I’m fucking waiting for Minho and the others to get back.”

 “Can’t you wait for them in your bed?” Felix asked gently. “You’re really risking serious injury by–”

 “I’m not going back to that fucking bed,” Jisung said, wiping his cheek again. His face was set in a scowl, and he wanted to scream so bad. He continued to stare out the window. “I’m sick of it. I feel useless. Besides, I’ll never know anything or be a part of anything by being locked up in that room forever. I’m staying here.”

 Jisung didn’t miss the way that Felix glanced at Hyunjin again, both confused and concerned, before he sat down on the couch as well, taking care to sit on the opposite end as Jisung. He tilted his head when Jisung huffed, but didn’t turn to look at him. “Jisung, what’s this about?”  
   
 Jisung bit his lip, staying silent. Tears were flowing freely from his eyes now, but they were silent, and he wondered if they’d just been waiting to come. Maybe Jisung just really needed to cry.

 He was angry. So angry. Minho had had plenty of chance to tell him that he was still going on the raid, but he hadn’t bothered. Did he even think about how this was going to affect Jisung when he woke up _alone_? Especially after he’d fallen asleep in the protection and warmth of the older’s arms. And after their conversation they’d had the other night? Minho had said he wouldn’t be able to stand it if _Jisung_ had gone on the raid and he had to stay behind, with nothing to do but wait. So why did he put Jisung in that very position?

 But he was also terrified. He wasn’t there to make sure Minho was okay. He knew the other could fight, but he also knew he was reckless, and he’d never ask for help. Jisung shivered at that thought. He wondered if any of the members of his gang would even help him if he asked. Jisung quickly pushed that away, though. Minho may not be the Strays’ favorite person, but they wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. He had to believe that.

 “Jisung?” Felix asked again. “Tell me what’s going on.”

 Jisung shook his head, letting out the smallest sobbing sound. He drew his arms closer to himself, trying to seem smaller. He didn’t want Felix to see him right now, didn’t want him to know that he was weak and he cried and he hurt. He didn’t want anyone to ever see him this way again. He was a _gang member_. They killed people all the time. They got injured all the time. But why did it feel like nothing would ever be okay again?

 And why did Minho leave him again?

 Felix took a shaky breath. “Jisung, look at me.”

 Jisung shook his head again, staring out the window. No one was coming, and it was dark outside. It reminded him of his dream.

 “Han Jisung, get over yourself,” Felix snapped, voice hardening. “You’re being pathetic.”

 Jisung’s head shot up, and he stared at Felix, shocked. Felix was the nicest person in the world, and Jisung had never expected him to say anything like that to anyone, but especially not him.

 Felix sighed now that he had Jisung’s attention. “Jisung, you won’t even let us check your stitches to make sure your dumbass didn’t pull them out,” he said, sounding tired.

 Jisung ducked his head, ashamed. He stood up, the pulled his shirt up a little bit, turning his head to the side so he didn’t have to see Felix’s face as he scrambled forward to check the stitches. He caught a glimpse of Hyunjin–sitting on the bottom step of the stairs and looking more worried than ever. His hair was a mess, like he’d run his hands through it, and his eyes were watering. Jisung frowned. Why was Hyunjin so upset?

 Jisung felt Felix’s hand on his side, steadying him, and he shut his eyes, a pang of longing going through his heart when he remembered Minho doing the same thing. His fingers had skimmed across his waist, sending Jisung’s heart into overdrive. Felix’s hands were more sure, and Jisung hated himself for wishing that it was Minho’s feather-light touch instead. Another choked sob came from Jisung, but he quickly bit it back, causing the sound to be short and pained.

 Felix let out a breath of relief, gesturing to Jisung he could drop his shirt and leaning back again. “Your stitches are fine. It’s bleeding a little, but they’re still in tact.”

 “I told you I was fine,” Jisung mumbled, sitting down again.

 “I bet it hurts like a bitch,” Felix replied easily, a knowing look on his face. Jisung bit back a sarcastic retort. “Now talk to me.”

 “I’m fine, Felix.”

 “I don’t believe that,” Felix said, voice soft. “Do you remember my first night in this house?”

 Jisung’s heart dropped a little, feeling guilty all over again. Of course he remembered. Felix had been sobbing, in the room nearest to him, and it had kept him awake. Chan had just introduced Felix to them that day–and they were all a little shocked. But Jisung still remembered what it was like to be in his shoes–lost, not sure if he could find somewhere safe to stay. Felix had been quiet. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes and he went to their spare bedroom without saying anything to anyone. Changbin thought he wouldn’t last a week. Jisung nodded after a long moment.

 “I was crying a lot,” Felix said, wistfully. There wasn’t a hint of shame in his voice. Jisung would’ve thought he sounded almost nostalgic–if he didn’t know better. “You opened the door to my room and I thought you were going to yell at me. For a second, I thought you were about to beat the shit out of me. Do you remember that?” Felix stared at him, needing him to understand.

 Jisung heart ached, but he nodded again. Now, he realized Felix was probably still mourning the loss of his friend, something he hadn’t had the chance to do because he hadn’t been safe.

 “But you didn’t,” Felix continued, voice forceful. “You asked if I was okay. And I didn’t say anything. So you asked if I wanted you to sleep on the floor, just so I wouldn’t be alone. At the time, I thought you were insane. But I was also grateful to you, you made me feel safer than I’d felt in a long time.”

 Jisung sighed shakily, staring out the window again because he didn’t know if he could look in Felix’s eyes right now.

 “About a month ago, you told me that if I ever needed to talk to someone, you were here for me. I told you that it meant a lot, right? That was an understatement. It means the world to me. I know I’ve been a Stray for a while now, and I have Changbin-hyung, but just knowing that I have you, and Chan-hyung, and Woojin-hyung–that’s more than I ever thought I’d have. It’s more than I deserve. We’re a family, Jisung.”  
   
 “I know,” Jisung replied, voice cracking.

 “So talk to me.”

 Jisung was silent for a long moment. He closed his eyes, trying to gather himself and his thoughts, before he finally looked Felix in the eyes. He tried to find words–anything that wouldn’t make him sound like a child, but all that came out was a broken, “He left me again.”

  
 Felix’s face softened. “Minho-hyung?”

 Jisung nodded, chest clenching and tears starting again. “He–he tells me he won’t leave and then he does and when he does something bad happens. He didn’t even tell me he was still going on the raid,” Jisung said, crying freely now.

 “If he’d told you, you would’ve asked him to stay,” Felix said, voice calm and reasonable. “I don’t think Minho would’ve been able to say no to you.”

 “Would that have been so bad?” Jisung snapped. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Would that really have been so bad?” he repeated, quieter this time.

 Felix glanced at him carefully, before he slid closer to him on the couch. He held his arm out to Jisung, giving him a choice, and Jisung hesitated for only a second before he gave in. He closed the rest of the distance between them, resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. “Jisung, he had to go.”

 “No he didn’t. He’s not a Stray. He doesn’t owe us anything,” Jisung said. He leaned more heavily against Felix, finally aware of just how tired he was and how much his side hurt. “He should’ve just stayed.”

 Felix hummed in understanding, reaching up to run his hands through Jisung’s hair. “Don’t be selfish, Jisung,” he said, voice soft despite the negative word. Felix had a way of making harsh words seem kind. “You can’t keep him safe and with you forever. He wanted to do this. It wouldn’t be right to make him stay.”

 Jisung hated that Felix was right. Minho was his own person and he could make his own choices, even if it hurt Jisung.

 Felix’s hand stopped for a second, before it continued again. When he spoke, his voice was hesitant, softer than ever. “Now, do you want to tell me what this is really about?”

 Jisung froze. He thought back to the dark room, to holding his breath, struggling, dark red eyes, and a gunshot. Jisung swore he could hear the gunshot, still. Could feel the repercussion of the gun in his hand before he dropped it. He thought about how he had scrambled back, terrified, as the man died. “No,” Jisung choked out.

 “It’s about more than just Minho-hyung, though,” Felix said. “I know that. He’s gone all the time, and you’ve never reacted like this.”

 Jisung didn’t realize that he’d started to shake. “Yeah, it is,” he muttered. “I just–I keep reliving it, Felix. I keep seeing it. And I think–I think what if it had been me? We struggled for the gun. If it had gone off a second sooner, I’d be dead instead. But he died, and I’m a killer, now. I can’t come back from that, I don’t know how.” Jisung found the words falling from his mouth without his permission, but he was happy they were out, didn’t regret it for a second. It felt good to get it off his chest, even though he hadn’t wanted anyone to know.

 Felix nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry. Killing someone...” he took a deep breath. “That’s a lot. But it’s not your fault, Jisung. It was self defense.”

 “I know. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead, though,” Jisung said.

 “No, but I’d rather it him than you. Any day,” Felix said fiercely. He sighed, then was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “Minho-hyung really cares about you, you know?”

 Jisung’s heart stuttered. It was still weird to have their feelings in the open, especially after Minho was so closed off to him for so long. Still, he nodded. “I know,” he whispered.

 “Good,” Felix said. “Changbin went on the raid, too.”

 Jisung sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I was being selfish, I didn’t even think–you’re probably worried out of your mind.” Guilt settled on him heavily. He felt like an awful friend, making Felix worry about him, too, while Changbin was the one in danger.

 “I am,” Felix said honestly. “We both are. I’m sure Hyunjin is. And Jeongin, though he’s sleeping right now. Which is for the best. But everyone who left–they all care about us. They’re going to come home safely, you know? Because they have to.”

 Jisung nodded silently.

 “But,” Felix continued carefully, and Jisung sighed, knowing he probably wouldn’t like Felix’s next words. “It’s not going to do anyone any good if you’re in a worse condition when they get back than when they left. Changbin will probably kill us if you break your stitches, and Minho–” Felix jokingly shuddered in fear, and Jisung laughed, sitting up. “Will you please go back to your bed? I’ll make sure to tell you the second they get back.”

 “Okay,” Jisung agreed. He still had a bad feeling, but he pushed it back. Talking with Felix had made him feel infinitely better and, though he was still worried, he knew Felix was right. Although, Jisung was still going to have a serious conversation with Minho when he got back. He was kind of tired of always being left in the dark.

 Jisung stood up, supported by Felix on one side. He smiled tightly at Hyunjin, who was still sitting on the stairs. Hyunjin hesitantly returned it, hurrying to support his other side. “I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I shouldn’t have–”

 “It’s okay,” Hyunjin assured him. “I was just worried about you.”  
   
 Jisung was surprised. He hadn’t been aware that his friendship with Hyunjin went that far, but he believed him. He could visibly see the stress in the other’s face. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

 Hyunjin shook his head. “It’s okay, Jisung. Really.”

 They were halfway up the stairs before Hyunjin slowed, tilting his head. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

 Jisung’s heart stopped, anxiety suddenly rushing through them. “Is that the car?”

 Felix tilted his head, listening. “They’re back already?” he asked, staring at the other two in confusion.

 “Do you think something happened?” Hyunjin whispered, like he didn’t dare speak it into existence.

 Felix took a deep breath, but it was shaky. He stared at them both with wide eyes. “Maybe it just went really well.”

 Jisung tightened his grip around both of their shoulders. “Take me back downstairs,” he demanded.

 Hyunjin looked hesitant. “But–”

 “Please! Just do it!” Jisung said, desperate.

 Felix nodded, and they turned carefully, heading back down the stairs. Outside, they heard the sound of car doors shutting, and hushed voices, sounding hurried. Felix and Hyunjin helped him settle on the couch, then they stood, waiting for the door to open.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!!! I really missed the Felix and Jisung friendship, as well as the developing friendship between Hyunjin and Jisung, so here's that!! Also, I'm not the best at describing like intense emotion???? So I'm going to do my best with that in this and,,, future chapters
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed, and please leave kudos//comments :))) 
> 
> Update: I got a twitter!!! I also made a tumblr, but it seems like more people use twitter. It's @simbawritesv on both though!!! 
> 
> Thank you!!!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning? It's really brief and not too bad, but read with caution. For mentions of death but I promise it's not so bad

 Seungmin was the first to come in the door, his mouth set in a tight line. He didn’t spare them much of a glance, just headed straight towards the bedroom he’d been occupying for the past month. He was still on crutches, and Jisung couldn’t help but think, briefly, about how his cast was supposed to come off the next day. Still, Seungmin was moving quickly, and Jisung tensed, watching him. He almost stood up to go after him, before Felix’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and he shook his head silently at Jisung.

 Seungmin came back from his room, precariously balancing his laptop as he headed to the kitchen table, then sat down, immediately opening it and beginning to type.

 “Seungminnie?” Jisung asked softly, voice wavering. “How did it go?”

 Seungmin visibly tensed, his back still turned on them. He shook his head, still bowed over the keyboard on his laptop. “They’re coming in soon,” he muttered back. “Chan-hyung will explain everything.”

 Jisung stiffened, anxiety rushing back into him as he glanced at Felix. The same look was mirrored in his eyes, but he forced a smile, sliding his hand into Jisung’s for comfort. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.

 Next to him, Hyunjin nodded, but none of them were entirely sure they believed the words. Seungmin had obviously heard–he was hunched over his laptop, oddly silent, even for him. After a long moment, he muttered, “Jeongin–where is he?”

 “Sleeping,” Hyunjin answered carefully, staring intently at Seungmin’s back.

 Seungmin nodded, mostly to himself, but only murmured a quick, “Good,” before he slumped further into his laptop, defeated.

 Woojin and Changbin stumbled through the door next, Changbin’s arm slung over the older’s shoulder as Woojin kicked the door open, trying to balance the both of them. Changbin was limping, leaning into Woojin’s support. His leg was tightly bandaged, the white cloth around it stained deep red.

 Felix was on them in an instant, taking Changbin’s other arm over his own shoulder without hesitation, ignoring his protests. Jisung could see the concern on his face, drawn into a tight, anxious line, but there was also a sense of relief.  
   
 Though he felt a bit better at seeing both Woojin and Changbin safe in the house, Jisung couldn’t help the heavy weight settling in his heart. He glanced at Hyunjin, noticing that his hands were clenched into tight fists and he hadn’t looked away from the door since it had last opened.

 Jisung tried to meet Changbin’s eyes, silently pleading for his questions to be answered, but the older boy was obviously trying to avoid eye contact, barely even looking at Felix.

 Jisung’s chest tightened, and he let out a choked noise when he took a deep breath. Hyunjin glanced at him, and the look of doubt in his eyes was enough to confirm that they both felt something was seriously wrong.

 Finally, Chan entered. He stood at the threshold for a long moment, staring at the floor. He looked tired, head bowed. Without looking up, he turned, shut the door, then locked it.

 Jisung froze, heart sinking. Hyunjin visibly flinched at the action, then collapsed to the couch with his head in his hands. His body shook while Jisung’s forgot how to function entirely. He wasn’t even sure he was still breathing properly.

 “Hyung?” he whispered, voice cracking. He kept looking at Chan, desperate. He waited for Chan to say something, to make everything better like he always does. But he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move. “ _Chan-hyung_ ,” he said again, silently willing him to do _something_.

 “I’m sorry, Jisungie,” Chan whispered finally, still staring at the floor.

 Jisung shook his head rapidly, refusing to believe it. Next to him, Hyunjin let out a sob, continuing to shake, but he remained on the couch, for the most part silent. Jisung’s head shot back to Chan, whose face had set into a hard line as he walked towards the kitchen table where the other’s had gone. “No, fuck that!” Jisung yelled and stood up quickly, ignoring the way everyone tensed. He angrily rubbed away the tears that were forming in his eyes as he glared at the people around the table. “What the fuck happened?”

 “It’s my fault,” Changbin said, meeting Jisung’s glare evenly. His eyes were sad, regretful almost, but they were wide and honest. His leg was still tightly bound, resting up on another chair, and Jisung thought it would probably need stitches, but Changbin was the best with a needle. He probably refused anything until they figured out what the plan was. He sighed, then leaned forward, placing something in the middle of the table. “We were running away when I got hit. He had the flash drive and I told him to keep going. But they–they wanted him. And he knew it. He traded himself in for me. I’m sorry, Jisung.”

 Jisung nodded, oddly calm. Everyone was staring at him carefully, afraid of his reaction. For a long minute, there was a tense silence, while everyone waited for something to happen. Without thinking, Jisung turned to the door, beginning to walk towards it. Vaguely, he registered that his side burned, but it barely effected him. His mind was empty, all he could think about was Minho.

 “Where are you going, Jisung?” Chan called after him.

 Jisung’s fingers danced on the handle of the door before he responded, “What does it look like I’m doing, hyung? I’m going to fucking get him back?” He opened the door and began to walk out into the street, ignoring the worried shouts behind him.

 He hadn’t gotten far before he heard Chan yell, “Jisung, wait!”

 It was raining but that didn’t matter to Jisung, he was already crying anyways. He wasn’t sure when the tears began to fall, wasn’t even sure _why_ he was crying. Everything was just too much. “No, hyung! You all left him there, and now I’m going to get him.”

 “And what do you think you’re going to do, Jisung? You don’t even know where you’re going, you’ll get yourself killed!” Chan screamed, voice carrying over the sound of the rain.

 “So what!” Jisung shouted back, his voice cracking. Was he sobbing? His chest was tight and there was a particular despair. He hated it. He felt so alone–so much like someone had torn his heart out. He thought about the man he’d killed, the man that bled out on the floor of his room. What the fuck did death mean anyways? “At least I’ll have done something!”

 “Jisung, listen to yourself! Do you know how you sound right now?” Chan demanded, his voice getting more and more desperate the further he followed Jisung down the street. “We’re going to do something, just come back. You’re going to fucking hurt yourself!”

 Jisung sobbed again, legs failing him. He crumpled to the sidewalk and sat with his head in his hands as he cried. Someone settled on the concrete next to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. Without looking, he curled into them, wailing into their chest. “Hyung, I–”

 “Jisung, I know,” they said.

 Jisung was startled by the voice, and he pulled back to see Hyunjin next to him, arms still wrapped around him. His eyes were red, and his hair stuck to his forehead. There was a dark, desolate look on his face, but there was also understanding. “I know,” he repeated, voice breaking. “I want to run off and find him, too. God, I want to.”

 Jisung whimpered, crying again. Hyunjin smiled sadly, wiping at his tears gently. “Minho knew what he was getting into when he went on the raid. He knew what he was getting into when he switched places with Changbin. Right now, the best we can do is stay together. Minho wouldn’t want you acting rashly–especially if it could hurt you,” Hyunjin said softly.

 “It’s my fault he went, though,” Jisung cried. “He would’ve stayed if it weren’t for me.”

 Hyunjin shook his head. “Did you ask him to go?” he asked. When Jisung just stared back at him, Hyunjin sighed. “Minho is an adult, Jisung. He made this decision on his own. Staying behind was his choice, nothing anyone said could’ve changed his mind.”

 “I just want him back, Hyunjin,” Jisung whimpered, desperate. “This isn’t fair.”

 “Me too,” Hyunjin whispered back. “Me too.” 

 Jisung still felt empty, desolate, but he wasn’t crying anymore. Hyunjin glanced at him cautiously, before he held his hand out. “Come on, let’s go back.”  
   
 Jisung nodded without thought, and Hyunjin helped him up. He supported him with an arm as they turned back towards the house, where Chan still stood in the rain, watching them with worry etched onto his face. He ran towards them when he saw them coming closer, hurrying to support his other side as they made their way back to the house.

 Changbin looked up the second they walked through the door, concerned. His face softened a little when he saw the three of them together, helping Jisung to the seat next to him. Jisung tried to smile at him when he sat down, but his heart hurt too bad and his face was still streaked with tears. He pushed the wet hair out of his eyes, and spoke before Changbin could. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m really happy you’re okay.”

 Relief flashed through Changbin’s eyes before it was replaced by a similar sadness that Jisung felt. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust him. He’s a good person, Jisungie.”

 Jisung nodded. “I know.”

 Woojin set down three towels on the table, sliding one over to Jisung, before looked at Seungmin. “Have you been able to get into the flash drive?”

 Seungmin’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he glanced up at them. “It’s not the easiest thing to decode, but not the hardest either,” he said, muttering as he went back to work. “Give me five more minutes.”

 Confused, Jisung looked at Chan. “Flash drive? I thought it was a weapon raid?” he asked as Hyunjin helped him dry his hair.

 “It was,” Changbin answered, and Jisung whipped around to look at him. “But when we got to the room it was empty except for that.” He pointed to the flash drive in Seungmin’s computer. “That’s all we got, and we have no idea what’s on it.”

 Jisung frowned, but nodded in understanding. “Were you guys found out?”

 “The alarm went off when the door to what we thought was the ammo room opened,” Chan replied. “We’re not sure what triggered it.”

 Changbin narrowed his eyes, glaring at Chan with a huff. “Well, _you’re_ not sure what triggered it.”

 Chan sighed. He didn’t seem angry–more exhausted than anything. “Changbin, I know how you feel about Jackson’s team–”

 “How _all_ of us feel about his team,” Changbin corrected. “No one thought it was a good idea to bring them on the raid.”

 Chan shook his head. “They’re the reason you guys got out of there. If it hadn’t been for them, all of you probably would’ve been taken hostage,” Chan snapped, before he winced, shooting a worried look at Jisung.

 Jisung glared at the table. “Maybe Changbin’s right, hyung,” he said. “How can we be sure they _didn’t_ sabotage the mission? What incentive did they ever have to help us?”

 Chan sighed again, not meeting their eyes. “They owed–”

 “ _Don’t_ say they owed us a favor, hyung,” Changbin growled. “I’m not sure that’s good enough anymore.”

 Chan ran a hand through his hair messily. “Fine. They had another reason for coming with us, but I swore not to tell anyone.”

 Woojin rested a hand on Chan’s arm, giving him a serious look. “That was a good decision,” he said, and Chan looked grateful for a moment, but Woojin shook his head, then continued. “At the time. But circumstances have changed. But now one of us is in danger, and if there’s any hint from Jackson’s team about where Minho could be or if they were the ones who betrayed us, we deserve to know.”

 Chan’s mouth set in a tight line, and he looked around at all of the faces staring at him expectantly. Finally, he nodded. “Most of you probably don’t know this, but Jackson has a younger half-sister, they share a father.” Chan hesitated. “They don’t really get along, but they were really close growing up. Jackson is loyal to the end, and he loves his sister. About a week ago, she went missing.”

 “And he thinks the Sharks had something to do with it?” Changbin said, stating what they were all thinking.

 Chan confirmed with a nod. “Her phone was left behind, and there was evidence of her contacting some Sharks. It–” Again, Chan hesitated, looking unsure. “It looked like there was an exchange of money.”

 Jisung frowned. “Why would she ask for money from the Sharks? Why not Jackson?”

 Chan shook his head. “I’m not sure. Like I said, they aren’t exactly close. Jackson–he thinks it’s because she thought he wouldn’t give it to her if he knew what it was for.”

 “What was it for?” Woojin prompted.

 Chan groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I promised not to say anything.”

 “ _Chan_ ,” Changbin pressed.

 Chan shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Her grandma has been sick, apparently for a long time now. She needed a transplant, but they didn’t have the money. Jackson didn’t know about any of this until a week ago, when he found out that not only did they miraculously find a donor, but they also got the money for the operation. He connected the dots, then wondered why he didn’t know, but–well, let’s just say Jackson has never really...” Chan paused, looking for the right words, “... _got along_ with that side of the family.”

 Jisung stared at the table, a little lost. Why was all of this sounding too familiar? “Hyung, what’s his sister’s name?”

 Chan shook his head. “No, that’s where I draw the line. I can’t reveal that.”

 Frustrated, Jisung’s head shot up to stare at Chan intensely. Puzzle pieces were falling together in his head, but it felt more like he was forcing them together, but missing the most important piece. “ _Hyung_ , this is really important. I just need to know her first name.”

 “ _No._ ”

 Jisung slammed his hand on the table, startling both Hyunjin and Felix. “Alright, fine, don’t tell us. But think about it before you refuse. How do you think his sister paid the Sharks back? It’s not like they throw their money around.”

 Chan narrowed his eyes, thinking. “Are you implying–”

 “That she somehow had information on us?” Jisung finished for him. “I don’t know, Chan. Is that what I’m saying?” He stared back at him, a challenge in his eyes. A part of him was beginning to think he already knew where this was going to go, but he wanted to hear it from Chan.

 “I–” Chan cut himself off. “I’ve known Jackson for a long time. Telling you this would betray all of his trust.”

 Jisung didn’t respond, he simply continued to stare at him, waiting. He knew Chan would give in, now that he knew it was putting the Strays in danger.

 Chan sighed. “Nayeon. Her name is Nayeon.”

 “ _Fuck_ ,” Jisung hissed. He’d been expecting the name, but it didn’t lessen the blow. “God, hyung, I know her.”  
   
 Chan stiffened. “You know her?” he repeated carefully.

 Jisung nodded. “Minho did, too. Actually, he knew her grandma, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew all about Minho. She definitely knew plenty about me.”

 Chan leaned forward, suddenly urgent. “Jisung, did she know the location of this house?”

 Jisung flinched at the abrupt change in Chan’s voice, but he racked his brain for any memory of her knowing about the house. He couldn’t up with a specific instance–but he really wouldn’t be surprised. “I–I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s a possibility.”

 “Nayeon,” Changbin said. “She’s the girl that works at the café Woojin and I took you to a couple weeks ago?” Jisung nodded in confirmation, and Changbin sighed. “She must’ve heard us talking–she knew that Minho was with us, in this house.”

 Jisung thought back to their trip to the café, trying to remember everything they’d said. “Fuck, she knew about Felix, too.”

 Felix looked up at that, startled to hear his name in the conversation suddenly. Chan glanced at him, then back to Jisung. “So you think... she knew all this and she sold us to the Sharks?”

 Jisung nodded, sad and disappointed. “She was desperate. She did what she thought she had to do.”

 “Fuck,” Chan muttered.

 “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Seungmin said, leaning back in his chair in exhaustion. “I cracked the fucking flash drive.” He pushed his laptop towards the middle of the table so everyone could see its contents, staying close enough to navigate it. “It has everything–identities, important members, important information, safe houses, access to their fucking _cameras_. It’s almost too good to be true.”

 Chan hurried to look forward, watching intently as Seungmin scrolled through all the information. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “Is there anything about their leader?”

 “It might take me a while to find it, but I’m guessing there probably is. We can finally find out who that asshole is,” Seungmin said, almost laughing in disbelief.

 Jisung leaned forward, the action causing his side to twinge in pain, and when he winced, Hyunjin shot him another look of concern. “Are you okay?” he murmured, quiet enough that no one else heard, to Jisung’s relief.

 “I’m fine,” he responded, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

 He focused all of his attention back to the laptop, eyes following all of the information as Seungmin continued to scroll, showing them everything. His heart stopped at a familiar face. “Stop, stop! Go back up.”

 Seungmin realized what he was looking at, and, with a moment of hesitation, he clicked on the profile.

 Minho’s face was suddenly bigger, and it hurt to look at, but Jisung forced himself to look. His eyes trailed down the screen, reading all of the information. His stomach dropped. The Sharks knew _everything_ about Minho. From his real name to his background to where he’d been living before he’d come to live with the Strays. He felt sick.

 Changbin swore loudly, putting his head in his hands.

 Jisung’s breath was coming in short, panicked spurts, and Seungmin quickly closed out Minho’s profile. But his face drew into a frown, eyes blown wide as he continued to scroll. “They have information on _everyone_. All of us. Even Jeongin and Hyunjin are in here.”

 Next to him, Hyunjin tensed, and Jisung was suddenly glad Jeongin was still sleeping.  
   
 Chan leaned back in his chair, hands covering his face. “Why the fuck are they always one step ahead of us?”

 Seungmin’s eyebrows furrowed, and he pulled his laptop closer to him. He was focused on something. “This looks like–” he muttered to himself, before his fingers were flying across the keyboard. After a long minute, he stopped, and a static sound came from his computer. He narrowed his eyebrows and leaned into the screen, like he was trying to make something out. Then his face dropped, and his eyes shot to Jisung, intensely sad, then flickered to Hyunjin. He glanced at Chan. “Hyung, you should see this,” he said quietly, voice cracking as he angled his lap top towards the leader.

 Chan looked confused as he gazed at the laptop, until his face froze in the same hard realization that Seungmin’s had. “Are they playing with us?”

 “I–I think they are,” Seungmin mumbled.

 “What?” Jisung snapped impatiently, anxious. “What is it?”

 “I–” Seungmin stuttered, looking to Chan for confirmation. The latter’s jaw was clenched into a tight line, but he nodded.

 Seungmin placed his laptop back in the center of the table, biting his lip as he leaned back so everyone could see what was on the screen.

 At first, all Jisung could see was a dim room with shifting shadows, but the longer he looked, the better he could make out the figures. There was a man walking around a chair, another figure tied to the chair. Their head was bowed, but Jisung didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. Still, Minho lifted his head, and stared at the man who had come to a stop in front of him. His face was covered in blood, but he still glared at the man.

 Jisung held his breath, wanting more than anything to look away, but this was all he had and he didn’t dare miss a second, too scared of what was going to happen.

 The man said something to Minho, who obviously didn’t like it. Minho’s mouth remained drawn in a tight line and he looked away.

 Jisung let out a pained gasp when the man hit Minho, the latter’s head snapping to the side. The man then squatted down next to Minho, and looked directly into the camera. There was a smirk on his face, and Jisung felt so, so sick.

 “How do they know we’re watching?” Chan hissed.

 Seungmin shook his head. “I don’t know.”

 The man tilted his head, his grin suddenly dropping into a scowl as he realized that Minho still refused to look up and into the camera. He roughly grabbed Minho’s chin, forcing him to look. He said something else, but Minho’s face didn’t change, still the image of a furious calm.

 “What’s he saying?” Jisung demanded.

 Seungmin shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, voice strained. “There’s no sound.”  
   
 The man continued to stare directly into the camera, his mouth forming words tauntingly. Jisung watched his lips, trying to make out something. He froze, only able to make out the last word. His eyes met Changbin’s briefly when the latter tensed next to him, realizing what he’d said as well.

_Jisung._

 Minho’s face slipped from its stoic expression for only a second, a flash of panic in his eyes, but it was enough. The man laughed, and Jisung despised the movement of the man’s chest, the evil smile on his face.

 Then the camera went out.

 Jisung was shaking all over again, his eyes not leaving the black screen. “Chan,” he said. “He’s only been there for a matter of hours. And they already–he already–”

 “What’s going on?”

 Jisung’s gaze shot up, landing on Jeongin standing at the entrance of the kitchen. His hair was sticking up and he looked both confused and scared. He was staring at the black screen, too. “Hyungs?” he whispered. “What–what was that?”

 Jeongin’s lip trembled, and Hyunjin muttered, “Fuck,” before he hurried out of his chair to gather the younger in his arms.

—

 Jisung wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to sleep again. He knew that the others were still awake–everyone except for Felix and Changbin, who had gone to bed after Woojin did his best to stitch up Changbin’s leg, and Jeongin.

 Jisung sighed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling as he thought of the younger boy. He was thankful that he hadn’t really seen much of the video, but they still had to be honest with him. Jeongin had barely reacted when Hyunjin told him. Jisung saw his shoulders slump, and it looked almost like he was giving up. Like he’d been expecting it. Jisung had to wonder how much the younger was used to being left behind.

 The only reason Jisung had gone to lay down was because Chan more or less forced him, sternly demanding that he take care of his health and that they would inform him of everything that they talked about when he woke up.

 But Jisung wasn’t sleeping. His mind was racing, full of thoughts of Nayeon’s betrayal and whether Minho was okay. He knew that the Sharks wouldn’t kill him–at least not yet–but it was obvious that they had no problem hurting him. And there was nothing Jisung could do, especially when he was stuck in his bed.

 Jisung tried to roll over again, forcing his eyes shut, but there was no point.

 He was just about to get out of bed when he heard a soft knock before the door opened and Jeongin peeked in. “Hyung?” he whispered.

 Jisung sat up a little. “Jeonginnie?” he asked softly. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

 Jeongin looked down at the floor, almost ashamed. “I can’t. I–” he cut himself off, giving Jisung a pleading look. “Normally I’d sleep with Hyunjin-hyung, but he’s–”

 Jisung nodded, gently hushing him as he lifted the side of his blanket. Jeongin looked relieved, hurrying to climb into the bed next to him. “Thank you, hyung,” he whispered.

 “Of course,” Jisung responded softly.

 It was quiet for a long moment, but both of them knew that the other wasn’t sleeping. Finally, Jisung said, “It’s okay to be scared.”

 Jeongin let out a deep breath. “I’m terrified.”

 “Me too,” Jisung whispered. “Can I tell you a secret?”  
   
 “Yes,” Jeongin said, nodding in the darkness.

 “I couldn’t sleep alone either,” Jisung said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

 “What’s going to happen now?” Jeongin asked, voice small and scared.

 Jisung sighed. He wanted to tell the younger boy that everything would be okay, but he didn’t want to lie to him. He’d been through too much now to believe him, anyways. He stared at the ceiling, wishing he had answers. “I don’t know, Jeongin. I really don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this up like 3 days ago, I'm sorry!!!!
> 
> Also I'm sorry Minho I swear I love him. Also Nayeon, I love her, too, but I've been planning this since day 1 oops. I hope there are no plot holes bUT shit happens :')
> 
> Follow me on Twitter??? @simbawritesv


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important note at the end

 “Jisung, you need to eat.”

 Jisung barely glanced up at Changbin, humming something noncommital as an answer, before he continued to stare at Seungmin’s laptop screen. He heard the older sigh, then the chair next to him was sliding, before it was occupied by Changbin. He set a bowl of soup down on the table next to the computer, along with a glass of water. “Please, Jisung.”

 “It’s been three days,” Jisung said. His voice worked almost without his permission, and his words sounded far off even to himself. Still, he continued to look at the screen. “They’ve deactivated every other camera except this one. What does that tell you, hyung?”

 Changbin was silent for a long moment, and Jisung figured he was probably watching the screen as well. Not much had changed in the last three days–Minho was still in the same spot he was when they first discovered the camera. He rarely moved, and sometimes someone would come in, talk a little bit, then leave. Minho scarcely responded. Most of the time, he didn’t even look up, and Jisung yearned to see his face, but was almost too scared to. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the screen from too long, and no one had the heart to turn it off.

 Finally, Changbin sighed again, pulling back from the table. Jisung wondered if it was so he couldn’t see the screen as well. “I don’t know, Jisung,” he said, except Jisung knew he was lying. He knew exactly what that meant.

 Jisung laughed dryly. “It means they know we’re watching.”

 “It means they _want_ us to watch, Jisung. You’re just torturing yourself,” Changbin said, voice as gentle as possible. “If they wanted to hurt him, they’d do it by now.”

 Jisung shook his head. “No, they’re waiting for us to do something, and I don’t know what. It’s like our finger is on the trigger of a gun and we’re constantly putting pressure on it, and none of us know when it’ll fire. I just know where it’s aimed.”

 “Jisung, _please_ eat,” Changbin tried again, voice cracking.

 “Do you think he’s eaten?” Jisung asked bluntly. He’d cried for a long time, the last couple of nights especially, but he didn’t think he had many tears left. Now he just felt empty, and he couldn’t bring himself to do much more than watch the screen, waiting for something to happen. He didn’t know what he waiting for, but he knew that whatever is was, when it happened, it would be bad.

 “You’re the one who’s been watching it, Jisung. You tell me,” Changbin said, the patience slowly leaving his voice.

 “He hasn’t,” Jisung answered. “He’s had some water, though. Yesterday.”

 “Jisung, you need to stop this,” Changbin pleaded. “I know that this is hard for you, but throwing away your health isn’t going to solve shit. We’re going to get him back, I promise, but right now you need to put the laptop away and _just fucking eat_.” The last words came out biting, and Jisung heard him take a deep breath, before he muttered, “Please.”

 Jisung nodded, pushing his chair out. He glanced at the screen one last time, the now familiar ache in his chest all the more obvious, before he closed the laptop. He forced down the rush of anxiety that came with it, knowing that he could spare an hour or two to eat and maybe sleep. “I’m sorry, hyung. You’re right,” he said. He glanced up, realizing how closely the older was watching him, so he took a bite of the soup, then forced a smile.

 Changbin looked back at him, a sad expression on his face. Jisung was too easy to read, and he could tell that the older knew he was only doing this to make him happy. Still, Jisung ate until the soup was almost entirely gone, even though it was bland and he had no appetite, and took a couple sips of the water. He leaned back in his chair to meet the older’s eyes evenly.

 Changbin gestured towards the laptop. “They’re toying with us. I’m not entirely sure they didn’t want us to find the flash drive in the first place.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully before he shook his head. “I don’t think so. If that were the case, there would’ve been more precaution with the information. We know more than they would want us to. I think they’re just taking advantage of a bad situation.”

 Changbin laughed, but there was no humor in it. “‘Taking advantage of a bad situation.’ That’s one way to put it.”

 Jisung didn’t respond. He knew that all Changbin wanted was a conversation, or some kind of sign that he was alright. There was a certain amount of desperation in the older’s eyes, and he kept looking at Jisung with so much _hope_ that it killed him to look away. He hated to disappoint him, but he didn’t know what else there was to say.

 He’d never blamed Changbin for what happened, even after he heard the story. Hyunjin had been right, everything was Minho’s choice, yet Jisung couldn’t bring himself to blame him either. He wanted so badly to put the blame on someone, because then there would be somewhere to focus all of his emotion. Because then maybe he’d be angry instead of so, so sad. But he knew it wasn’t right, and that it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

 Changbin’s face fell when Jisung turned his head away, but he shook it off quickly, clearing his throat. “I do have news,” he said, somewhat hesitant.

 Jisung perked up at that, but still didn’t turn to look at him, in case the news wasn’t as helpful as he was hoping. He didn’t want Changbin to see him break all over again. It was bad enough that everyone was already walking on thin ice around him. “What is it?” he asked.

 Changbin took a deep breath. “I thought Chan should tell you, but...” he stopped himself for a second, but, when Jisung finally looked at him again, his face softened and he gave in. “We have a name–their leader.”

 Jisung blinked, surprised. “Seungmin found it?”

 After they’d found all of the information on the flashdrive, they’d transferred most of it to another computer, one that would work better for Seungmin to code it, while they could still monitor the Sharks on Seungmin’s laptop. Even after the Sharks shut down all of their cameras except the one to Minho’s room, they decided it should still be separate, so they could watch and make sure nothing happened to Minho.  
   
 Changbin nodded, still giving him that same cautious look that Jisung hated. “It was a bitch to uncode, but he did. A man named Kim Hyunseok.”

 “I’ve never heard of him,” Jisung said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Is he really that invisible?”

 “The Sharks have done a good job keeping him well hidden,” Changbin confirmed.

 “So what are we going to do about it?” Jisung demanded.

 Changbin gave him an incredulous look. “ _We?_ Jisung, you can barely walk still. _We_ aren’t going to do anything. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to trust us this time around.”

 Jisung scoffed. “Because that went so well last time,” he spat, turning away.

 Changbin sighed. “I know you don’t mean that, Jisung. I get that you’re hurting, but you can’t keep being stupid.”

 “I’m _not_ , though!” Jisung responded, raising his voice. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he continued. “I’m not. Hyung, if that–if that was _Felix_. What would you do?”

 Changbin gave him a sad look, jaw tight, and glanced away. Jisung found his eyes again, pressing. “What would you do?” When he still didn’t answer, Jisung said, “ _Hyung._ ”

 “Anything,” Changbin muttered finally.

 Jisung sighed, relieved, then leaned back with a nod. “Anything,” he repeated. “Exactly. Whatever you’re planning–I’m coming. Even if you have to fucking carry me, I don’t care, I’m _going_.”

 Changbin bit his lip. “We don’t really have a plan yet,” he admitted. “We’re going to the underground, tonight. Chan was going to ask some of the other fighters, anyone who isn’t allied with a gang. We also told most of the Strays to keep an eye out, just the most trustworthy ones.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows. “Chan still think there’s a traitor amongst us?”

 “It’s just a precaution,” Changbin assured. “We hope that the only one giving out information was Nayeon, but there’s no way to be certain.”

 “Right,” Jisung agreed. “Then I’m going with you.”

 “Jisung, you can’t. It’s just the underground, nothing will even happen, we’re just looking for information,” Changbin protested.

 Jisung snorted. Changbin should know by now that he was more stubborn than anyone else, and he wasn’t going to give up that easily. “The man that was with Minho said my name,” Jisung said. “There going to try to get to me.”

 “That’s the exact reason that you should _stay here._ ”

 Jisung rolled his eyes. “Please, hyung. You really think _I’m_ their target? I’m just a pawn.”

 Changbin’s face settled into a serious expression. “Yes, but we don’t know their ulterior motives yet. It’s dangerous.”

 “Everything’s dangerous,” Jisung said vaguely, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. If you want me to stay here, you’ll have to chain me to the bed. Which, I wouldn’t advise.”

 Changbin stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back loudly. He sighed, a heavy, defeated sound, before he nodded. “Chan knew you weren’t going to give in,” he said, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Nothing breaks you, Jisung. I admire that about you. I don’t think there’s anything that could take you down indefinitely.” Changbin paused, not looking at him. “We’re leaving in two hours. Make it look like you didn’t just get stabbed and you can come.”

—

 Jisung took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself one last time before they walked into the large crowd of people. He was still in pain, even though he’d taken a lot more medicine (maybe a little more than recommended) and his side was firmly wrapped. Felix had frowned as he’d helped him wind the cloth around his waist and up to his side, but he hadn’t said anything, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference.

 Next to him, Hyunjin looked around at the people in awe. “This is where Minho-hyung used to come to fight?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

 Jisung nodded, a small smile gracing his lips.  “Yeah,” Jisung answered. “He was really good.” Jisung laughed, feeling a little reminiscent. “The first time I saw him fight, he got hit. I panicked, but he won.”

 Hyunjin looked thoughtful. “I didn’t think he ever got hit,” he said, almost amused. “So what are we going to do here?”

 Jisung chuckled at that. Even though he obviously knew nothing about the underground or their lives, Hyunjin had insisted that he come along. Chan and Changbin had made him promise to stay close by, which mostly meant close to Jisung, for both of their safety. “Just keep up,” he said. “We’re more or less avoiding the Sharks. They can’t try anything here, this is a neutral zone, but I wouldn’t put it past them to say something. Taunt us, maybe.”

 Hyunjin looked back and forth, suddenly panicked. “Where did Chan-hyung and Changbin-hyung go?”

 Jisung shrugged. “We tend to split up once we get here, we can cover more.”

 Hyunjin sighed, ducking his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your life.”

 Jisung shot him a questioning look, shouldering past someone in the crowd. “My life?”

 “All of your guys’ lives,” Hyunjin corrected. “There was a reason I always stayed out of Minho’s fighting. After Younghyun...” he trailed off, and Jisung nodded to show that he understood, and Hyunjin smiled at him in relief. “I stayed close to him, but this was always a part of his life that was separate. I guess that meant there was always kind of a wall between us. Especially when Jeongin got closer to us, I thought it was the safest for him to keep that part of his life to himself.”

 “It probably was,” Jisung agreed. “Now I’m afraid you both were pulled into it too far.”

 Hyunjin took a deep breath, then looked around them. Jisung followed his gaze, wincing when he realized that he was focusing on the fighting around them. There were blurs of blood and drugs and alcohol, and Jisung hadn’t ever been too fond of it, but it’s what he knew. Yet, it was new to Hyunjin, and, Jisung hoped, Jeongin would never set foot here. Hyunjin met Jisung’s eyes honestly. “There are good things and bad things,” he said cautiously. “I don’t want Jeongin to ever be in danger again, but I wouldn’t tear him away from the family we’ve found in you guys.”

 Jisung wasn’t sure if that was relief that settled on his shoulders or simply another weight. “We’ll figure it out,” he said finally. “You know that none of us would ever do _anything_ to put either of you in danger, right?”

 Hyunjin nodded. “I know,” he said. “We feel safe, but that doesn’t change that we worry about all of you.”

 Jisung blinked, cocking his head. “You do?”

 Hyunjin gave him an incredulous look. “What the–of course we do, Jisung! We were terrified when the others left for the raid, and not just for Minho.”

 “I’m sorry,” Jisung said, feeling guilty. Hyunjin had sounded seriously offended when he suggested that he didn’t worry, and now the air around them was a little uncomfortable. He shifted his feet, feeling a little warm in the crowd. He felt like there was a pair of eyes on him, even though no one around them cared enough to give them a second look.  
             
 “Look, Jisung I–”

 “Han Jisung?”

 Jisung jumped, a little surprised to hear his name, especially from a female’s voice. He turned, trying to find the source, and his eyes settled on an oddly familiar face. He squinted, trying to make out the features, before realization dawned on him. “Na?” he said.

 The girl smirked. “Good to see you again, sweetie,” she said, her voice sickly sweet, like she _hadn’t_ beaten the shit out of him last time they met.

 Hyunjin shifted closer to him, muttering under his breath to Jisung, “You know her?”

 “That snake?” Jisung responded, loud enough for Na to have heard. “Yeah, we’ve met.” He met Na’s fake smile with one as equally poisonous.

 Na pretended to check her nails, then glanced at Hyunjin. Her smirk widened when Jisung subconsciously took a step in front of Hyunjin, blocking her sight of him. “What do you want?” he spat, dropping the nice act.

 Na giggled. “I don’t want anything from you,” she said. “I’m just here to tell you something.”

 Jisung raised his eyebrow. “And who sent you?” he asked, realizing that they at least had _something_ over her, even if she didn’t know it yet. A name isn’t much, but when it comes to the hidden leader of a gang, it could be a lot more than it seems. The leader of the Sharks was very different from Chan, who had never been hidden, and had always been open. It was a different kind of fear, because it made Chan seem stronger, but the fear of the unknown that came with the Sharks’ leader was always worse. But now the Strays had them.

 Na glared at him over her nails, smile dropping. “Not here, sweetie,” she hissed. “Too many curious eyes and open ears, don’t you think?”

 Jisung met her scowl evenly, before he turned to Hyunjin. “I’ll be right back,” he said, keeping his face straight and calm. He leaned in briefly, close to his ear, and whispered, “Find Chan. Tell him where I am.”

 Hyunjin stared at Na over his shoulder, before he nodded. He narrowed his eyes at Na. “Don’t think for a second that I won’t watch where you go,” he told her, voice scalding. “If you do _anything_ , I won’t hesitate to–”

 “To what, sweetie?” Na interjected. “You look like a baby. So new, so gullible. Run along now.”

 Hyunjin tensed, hands fisting at his sides. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

 “Maybe another time, babe,” she spat back, eyes sharp.

 Hyunjin looked like he was ready to punch her, so Jisung forced a smile, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Hyunjin. I’ll be right back.”  
   
 Jisung shot one last look over his shoulder at Hyunjin as he followed Na to the outskirts of the street. The other boy was watching after them, eyes murderous, before he turned, probably to go find Chan.

 Na led him to an alley, rounding on him as he stood right outside of the space. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked. “Claustrophobic?”

 Jisung bit back a scathing remark, forcing himself to walk after her. “No,” he snapped.

 Na leaned against the wall across from him, crossing her arms. “Cozy, isn’t it? If I remember correctly, you’re well acquainted with these kinds of places, aren’t you?”

 Anger surged through him, and he realized just how much he hated the girl standing across from him. “What did you want to tell me?” he demanded.

 “Someone’s impatient,” she said, a sing-song tone to the words.

 “Fuck off,” Jisung said. “If you’re not going to say anything, then–”

 “Chill, Jisung. You’re too tense. Are you stressed about something?” she asked, purposefully making herself look as innocent as possible.

 Jisung’s jaw clenched, knowing that Na knew very well what was stressing him out.

 Na sighed. “This is getting boring. I had one job, and never let it be said I don’t carry out what I’m supposed to do.” She pushed herself off the wall, crowding Jisung easily. She tilted her head, then lifted Jisung’s t-shirt, giving him no time to move out of the way. She dropped the fabric quickly before she moved out of his space. She hummed, looking at Jisung contemplatively. “So it is true.”

 Jisung’s heart began to pound, but he swallowed the fear of his weakness being known. “So what?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

 Na shrugged. “I was curious. We lost some good men, and for what?” she said. “Now I know that it wasn’t as useless as we thought.”

 “Just get to the point, Na,” Jisung said, unconsciously covering his side with an arm.

 “You want your little boy toy back?” Na snapped. “We haven’t hurt his pretty face yet, but no promises if you keep pulling this shit.”

 “What shit?” Jisung asked, trying to sound clueless.

 Na huffed, rolling her eyes. “What are you doing here tonight, Jisung?”

 Jisung bit his lip, keeping his mouth shut.

 “Whatever,” she said, walking to the edge of the alley. “Check your phone. Take your leader and go to that address tomorrow night and you _might_ get your pretty boyfriend back. Just you two, if you come with anyone else, we’ll kill him.”

 Jisung watched her walk away, frozen. He didn’t know how long he stood there, tense and afraid, before the other three found him. He barely registered their worried faces, words flying around him.

 “Jisung? Jisung? What did she say?”

 Jisung blinked at Chan, eyes watering. He didn’t know if it was out of fear or misery, but he couldn’t hold back the tears. He stared at Chan, his image blurring. “It’s a trap,” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! I'm sorry this took so long!!!! It's been a couple of crazy weeks, I graduated!!!
> 
> BUt important note: I'm going on a trip, so I won't be able to write for three weeks, which means no update for a little while :') I'm sorry!!!! 
> 
> Also this is a little rushed, I'm sorry, I really wanted to get it up before I left because I didn't want to leave you guys with nothing. I'm sorry if it's bad and unedited, but isn't it always??? also its Short I'm sorry


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!! My vacation was a lot of fun, but it's good to be home :)
> 
> With this chapter, I broke 100k words!!!!!

 Jisung didn’t remember much after those words. _It’s a trap_. He was pretty sure that Chan had been the one to rush forward, securing his arms around his waist when Jisung felt like his legs were about to fail him. He didn’t really think too much about how, between the three of them, they’d managed to maneuver so that Jisung was steady on his feet, an arm wrapped around both Chan and Hyunjin, with Changbin walking close behind. He thought they’d tried to say something, but their voices all sounded muffled, far away.

 It was like all of the exhaustion from the past couple of days had hit him at once. His side _throbbed_ but his chest hurt more in a way that he couldn’t describe. He didn’t know if it was fear or helplessness or longing, but he couldn’t seem to tell the difference anymore.

 He barely noticed Hyunjin sending him concerned looks as they walked, but he definitely noticed the determined set to Chan’s jaw, the anger that laced itself into his every step, and suddenly it was all too obvious to Jisung why Na had chosen him threaten. Even with all their threats and attacks, they were still _scared_ –of Chan, of the Strays.

 Before he knew it, they’d returned safely to the house. It took a second for Jisung to steady himself enough to explain to everyone else what Na had said. His voice was weak and by the time he was finished, he was shaking and their expressions were drawn into tight, worried lines.

 Chan nodded darkly. “You’re right, it’s a trap.”  
   
 “And an obvious one,” Changbin added. “They’re not even trying to hide it.”

 Jisung’s fists clenched in his lap and he turned his head so they couldn’t see the look on his face. “And what choice do we have?” he spat.

 “None,” Chan replied, easily and with no hesitation. It was enough for Jisung to look up at him in shock. “Minho gave himself up for one of us,” he began with a meaningful glance towards Changbin.  Chan sighed and pulled out a chair at the table, sitting down carefully. “After the night attack, while Changbin was seeing to Jisung’s knife wound, Minho came to me.”

 Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, confused. He hadn’t heard about this. Not that he thought Minho needed to tell him everything that happened, but he was used to the older doing just that.

 Chan looked at Jisung, eyes cautious and unsure. “He asked to join the Strays.”

 Jisung tensed, barely believing it. But Chan’s expression was serious, his focus on Jisung unwavering. Jisung swallowed, trying to keep himself calm. “What was your answer?”

 Chan blinked. “No.”  
       
 Jisung stood up abruptly, his chair pushing back from the table. “What the hell?” he said. “Isn’t that what you wanted from the beginning? Minho on our side?” He knew that wasn’t the reason he was upset, and he hated it. He was upset for selfish reasons. He was so close to having all of his questions of _What happens next?_ answered. After weeks of what felt like trying to hold smoke in his hands. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Did it even matter anymore? Minho wasn’t here. There _wasn’t_ a next, at least not until they did something. Not until they got him back. They _had_ to get him back.

 “Jisung, sit down before you hurt yourself,” Chan said calmly. He waited until Jisung had followed the request before he continued. “This hasn’t been about getting Minho on our side for a long time. And I didn’t want him to join us, not like that.”

 “Like what?” Jisung hissed, angry for no reason. It was all just too much. He knew he couldn’t place any blame on Chan, but he didn’t know what else to do with it. He could be mad and blame the Sharks all he wanted, but that didn’t make them return Minho. He remembered the wicked grin on Na’s face, shivering.

 Chan’s eyes narrowed, as if he was debating something with himself. He pursed his lips before leaning forward. “He was upset, Jisung. You’d just been stabbed and he thought it was his fault. I don’t blame him for taking a desperate action.”

 “But you said no.”

 Chan nodded. “I did. I couldn’t trust him. He was a wild card.”

 “Was?” Felix asked from his place across the table.

 Again, Chan nodded. “I don’t think I was wrong to deny him a place with the Strays. _At the time_. I think he’s more than proved himself since, though,” he said. “Whether he still wants it, he has a place with us. And we don’t leave Strays behind.”

 Jisung breathed out a sigh of relief. He felt like he’d been holding his breath underwater, under crashing waves. Though he still couldn’t breathe freely, at least he felt like his head was above the surface right now. “So what do we do?” he whispered.

 Chan shrugged. “We go to the meeting place. The Sharks want a fight, they’ll get one.”

 Woojin frowned. “We’ve already established it’s a trap. On top of that, they said for only you and Jisung to come. With the state Jisung’s in, it’s unlikely they’ll expect much of a fight from him–no offense, Jisung. You have to know it’s a trap set–”

 “For me?” Chan finished for him, the image of calm. “Yes, I know. They seem to think that if they cut off the head, it’ll incapacitate the whole body.”

 “Wouldn’t it, though?” Woojin asked fiercely. “Chan, they’re not looking for a fair fight, they’re not even looking to hurt you. They want to _kill_ you.”

 “You think I don’t know that?” Chan snapped. He sat back in his chair, face drawn seriously as he frowned at the table. “We just need some kind of plan.”

 Seungmin shook his head with a barely hidden glance towards his leg. Jisung knew that he could walk on it now, but it still felt rather weak. If it came down to a fight, Seungmin couldn’t be present. Nevertheless, Seungmin said, “Can we come up with something good enough in time? Chan, they want us to meet them there in barely twenty-four hours–”

 “Then we make it simple. They’ll try to prepare for something over-the-top, but what if we made it obvious?” he said, thinking slowly. Jisung saw his face begin to light up, ever so slightly, and he recognized it as hope.

 Changbin looked doubtful. “Are they dumb enough to fall for that?”

 “Are we dumb enough to _do_ that?” Jisung mumbled.

 “Either way, this ends tomorrow,” Chan said decisively, and then all arguments died.

 Jisung stared around the table, meeting everyone’s eyes. They looked at him expectantly, as if he had the right to call the shots on this one. He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, unsure. Finally, his eyes settled on Jeongin’s. The teenager looked like he wanted to cry, but he met Jisung’s eyes bravely, offering a small smile. Jisung returned it, trying to find the hope that Chan felt. Trying to mirror the bravery he felt surrounding him. He glanced at Chan, nodding. “Let’s figure this out, then. We don’t have much time.”

—

 Minho wasn’t fond of the dark. That, mixed with his hands being handcuffed behind his back and his inability to move, all brought him back to the last time he’d been in this position. It wasn’t the fear of being held captive, or even the fear of being hurt. No, it all reminded him too much of Younghyun’s death. Of his hands covered in his best friend’s blood and the look on Hyunjin’s face when he realized that he wasn’t going to live, but kept speeding to the hospital anyways.

 He hoped the Strays would leave him here.

  _Jisung._ God, Jisung. He’d barely allowed himself to think about what the younger must be thinking–must be doing. Minho wasn’t an idiot, he knew that the Strays must have some access to the cameras in his room, the Sharks were all too adamant about showing him off when he first got here. Since then, it had been ominously quiet. He wondered if the Sharks had done what they meant to do with him, and if they would just leave him here to wither away.

 He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All he was sure about was that the camera was still on, and, he guessed, purposefully directed at him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it. Not since the man who’d been in here with him had hissed his name into Minho’s ear. Not since he’d forced him to glare into that cruel, blinking light like it had the answers. Minho wouldn’t beg, and he wouldn’t cry. If he had to, he thought he would be okay with withering away in that stupid fucking room, as long as he did it with some dignity.

 Minho only figured out that they _weren’t_ done with him when they fed him. It was barely anything–some stale toast and a small glass of water–but he took it anyways. If he wanted to even try to get the hell out of there, he’d need to stay as healthy as possible. All of his escape plans were fruitless, however. There didn’t seem to be a way out of his bounds–not after the first attempt to get ahold of a shard of glass from a cup he broke–and the door remained locked from the outside, and was constantly guarded.

 The girl who brought him his food was a slight girl who never even looked at him. The girl seemed to be even less happy than him, and Minho took notice that the guard watched her with the same careful eye that he kept on Minho. There was something familiar about the girl, but it was hard to place, especially when she barely turned her face to him.

 On the third day of his captivity, the girl spilled the water on him. Minho was surprised, but he remained silent as he apologized profusely, sending worried glances towards the guard at the door. She dropped to the floor, pulling a rag out of her back pocket and began to wipe up the mess.

 Minho watched as she shot another look at the guard, who seemed completely uninterested in her clumsiness, and then leaned into Minho’s ear, whispering, “Jisung? Is he okay? I heard–”

 Minho’s hands clenched at the name, twisting in his bounds. He tried once again to turn, to see her face, but she was looking away from him, eyes focused on the grimy floor. Frustrated, Minho bit out a short, quiet, “Yes.”

 For a long moment, he wasn’t sure the girl heard, but then he recognized a relieved sigh.

 Something small and metal was pressed into the palm of his left hand, and Minho stiffened, his fist closing around it desperately. The girl finished her cleaning and stood up, finally meeting Minho’s gaze for the first time in days. Her eyes were rimmed in red, hovering over dark circles. She looked exhausted, and like she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. “I never introduced myself, Minho-ssi,” she said, loud enough for the guard to listen in. They both waited, but the guard remained indifferent. She continued. “I’m Nayeon. Sorry for the spill,” she said. And then she was gone.

 Shock hit Minho like a wave hits the sand. He knew that name. He struggled to place it, and, after a minute of coming up blank, he realized. The familiarity. She was Miss Yoon’s granddaughter, Jisung’s friend from the café. He’d never met her himself, but she bore a close resemblance to her grandmother.

 Minho’s brow furrowed. The door had closed to his room, and he was once again left in the dark. But he ignored it, trying to focus on what this meant. Why was she with the Sharks? A cold weight settled in his stomach the longer he thought about it, and he wondered if it was possible that she’d been the one to betray the Strays.

 Minho felt again the weight in his hands, and he ran his finger along the edge of the object. It was a lockpick. Minho bit back a sharp laugh of relief and hope, grasping it tighter in his hand. He didn’t know if he could trust Nayeon, but this was his only option.

 Minho wasn’t the best at picking locks, but he could make do with what he had. He held onto the lockpick until the next day, when the door to his room opened once again. He was ready to try to bombard Nayeon with more questions, desperate for answers, but instead, four people spilled in. Minho frowned. That was different, typically his only company was the guard and Nayeon.

 Minho blinked at the people surrounding him, narrowing his eyes when he recognized Na. He cleared his throat. “Why the party, Na?” he asked, his voice sounding rough from days of refusing to talk. “And all for me? I must be pretty special.”

 Na glowered at him, but then her lips twitched into a smirk. “Actually, you are. In fact, today you’re the prize.”

 Minho glared at her. “You’re an idiot if you think they’ll actually come for me,” he said. “I’m just a street fighter, I’m not even a part of their gang. They don’t care about me.”

 “Save it,” Na hissed. “I had a little talk with our precious Jisungie. He just can’t seem to keep himself out of trouble, can he?” Minho kept his face impassive, but Na’s smirk grew nastier. She made a ‘tsk’ sound. “He seems to be favoring his right side. I wonder what happened?”

 Minho swallowed the shot of fear that went through him. “Leave him the fuck alone,” he demanded. “I thought the Sharks wanted me.”

 Na waved him off, unbothered. “The Sharks don’t care about you anymore, Lee Minho. You had your chance. You dug yourself a grave, now we’re going to help you lay in it.”

 “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Minho said, for lack of anything better to say that wouldn’t give him away.

 “I’m not here for theatrics,” Na said. “I’m here to collect you. Let’s go, boys.”

 At that, the other people in the room came forward to loosen the bindings around him, but made sure to keep his hands tightly pressed against each other. The man on his right tugged at his arm harshly, forcing him to stand up. Panic shot through him, and he squeezed his fingers around the lockpick, hoping that none of the guards would notice. He hoped they would underestimate him because of the handcuffs, hoped they would be foolish enough in their confidence not to check him once again.

 “Where are we going?” he demanded, mostly as an attempt to distract them, to keep Na talking.

 “Don’t ask questions,” Na shot back, walking in front of them, and that was the end of all conversation. 

—

 Minho glared at Na the entire time she was fixing a gag around his mouth, pulling it tight around the back of his head. They blindfolded him, then pushed him into the backseat of a car. But they never found the lockpick. 

 They drove for less than ten minutes, and Minho tried to keep track of where they were, despite the blindfold. He registered the turns, but they all got jumbled in his head. After the eighth turn, he began to think they were taking a confusing route on purpose. When they finally parked, Minho had no idea where they were, or where they’d come from.

 The men tugged Minho out of the car as carelessly as they’d thrust him in, then pulled him along. He heard a door being opened, followed by the shuffle of more footsteps. They walked for another five minutes before the man on his right yanked on his arm again, and they came to a stop.

 They waited, in silence. Minho counted the seconds, holding his breath. He heard his heartbeat, hoped it wasn’t too obvious that it was pounding. He forced himself to hold back from unlocking the handcuffs. No matter how much he was desperate to be free, it wouldn’t do any good if they noticed too soon.

 Would the Strays actually come? What kind of offer had the Sharks made? Would _Jisung_ come?

 A hum of whispering went through the people surrounding him–how many were there?–and he was shoved to his knees. Something was pressed to the side of his head, and Minho didn’t need to be able to see to know that it was a gun. He took a deep breath around the cloth in his mouth, focusing on the action.

 Minutes passed, stretching like hours, until footsteps sounded once again, echoing. From the sound, Minho determined that they were in a large room. His knees were pressed to concrete, cold and hard beneath him. A warehouse?

 The footsteps stopped, and he heard someone’s breath hitch.

 “Welcome,” Na said. Minho hated how grand she made the word sound, like a king welcoming a peasant into his palace. “I’m glad that you had the sense to come, otherwise things could have been very dark for our poor Minho. Right, Minho-ah?”

 Minho wanted to kill her. She laughed, a high, cruel sound, knowing he couldn’t respond past the gag. He ached to be rid of both the blindfold and the gag. He needed to see who had come.

 Na sighed dramatically, then emphasized it with a disappointed huff. She tugged on his hair, forcing his head up. “Our Minho has been a little uncooperative these past couple of days,” she said. “I think–”

 “Na, is it?”

 That was Chan’s voice. Minho was sure of it.

 Na’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling just the slightest bit harder. Minho almost laughed. It was too easy to get under her skin.

 “I was under the impression that your leader might be here,” Chan said, his voice perfectly calm.

 Na laughed, short and bitter. “He doesn’t deal with things as trivial as these.”

 “You went through a lot of trouble for something so trivial,” Chan pointed out.

 Na released his hair aggressively, and Minho forced his head not to move. He held it high, jaw clenched. “No trouble at all,” she hissed. “Actually, it was easy.”

 Chan cleared his throat, interrupting her. “I did some research, actually,” he said, in a tone that made it clear he was leading to something.

 “We don’t have time for your–”

 “Take off his blindfold,” Chan said. It was a barely masked demand, and Minho’s heart quickened at the thought of being able to see. _Was Chan alone?_

 “We don’t take orders from you,” Na spat back.

 “If you take off his blindfold, I’ll tell you everything I know about Kim Hyunseok. Oh, and lower the gun, Na, we’re more civilized than this, aren’t we?” Chan asked, his voice sweet.

 Minho could feel Na tense next to him. _Kim Hyunseok_. Should he know that name? He’d never heard it before, but with the sudden silence that had gone through the Sharks, he assumed it was important. For the first time, hope began to bubble in his chest.

 “Put the gun down,” Na snapped.

 “Na, I don’t think–”

 “Now!” she demanded, cutting off the guard that was pointing the gun.

 After a second, he felt a tug on his blindfold and then it was gone, tossed to the ground beside him. Minho blinked, trying to take in his surroundings.

 They were definitely in some kind of warehouse. It was brightly lit, harsh on his eyes after so long in the dark, with a high ceiling and cement walls. Metal storage containers and boxes littered the room. The Sharks next to him wore dark masks and black hats, pulled low over their eyes, and he forced himself not to check how many more were around him–forced himself to look up and forward.

 His eyes met Jisung’s instantly, and he wanted to scream. He shouldn’t have come. He took a shuddering breath, but allowed himself to keep looking, because he was weak.

 Jisung’s jaw was set, eyes fiery. He looked furious. Minho wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him like this, and, for a second, Minho thought he looked every bit the terrifying gang member that his reputation said he was. Minho’s breath caught in his chest. He’d always thought Jisung was stronger than him, but this–this was proof. Jisung didn’t carry himself like someone who had been stabbed a week ago, and Minho wondered what Jisung was hiding under that powerful stance. Minho knew Jisung had to still be in pain, but he never would be able to tell if he didn’t know the condition of his injury.

 Jisung’s eyes softened when they met his, worry flashing through them, quicker than a heartbeat, but Minho caught it. Minho watched as his shoulders rose in a deep breath, then he tore his gaze away. It all happened so fast–no one would have caught it other than them. One glance, if that.

 Minho’s eyes shifted to Chan next, and the leader nodded at him–short and brief. Minho wished he could tell them both to go. Wished he could scream at them, wished they had never come. Again, he thought of Younghyun. Of the rain of bullets that he wasn’t fast enough to escape.

 “The gag stays,” Na said, sounding every bit like a child trying to maintain some authority. “But no blindfold. What do you know of Kim Hyunseok?”

 Chan lifted his head, dignified despite how Na talked down to him. “I know he’s the leader of the Sharks,” Chan said simply.

 Minho blinked in surprise. They must’ve been able to crack the information on the flash drive. He couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that the raid hadn’t been for nothing.

 But Na only laughed, ugly and too loud.

 Chan was unfazed. “We also know an address, just inside the city.”

 Na’s lip curled. “This is useless, Chan. You’re not telling us anything that we don’t already know. You got some information, that changes nothing.”

 “I’m not finished,” Chan snapped, his composure shifting for the first time. It was gone so fast, Minho thought he might have imagined it. “Last night, you had a talk with Jisung.”

 “Stop telling me things I know and get to the point,” Na sneered. Minho noticed her begin to shift uncomfortably. Where was Chan going with this?

 “Normally, under such circumstances, I never would have let the Strays split up at such a dangerous time, even in a neutral zone such as the underground,” Chan said. “But Changbin and I had other arrangements to see to, so we split up last night.”

 Na rolled her eyes. “Do you think we’re stupid? We had eyes on you the whole night, you surrounded yourself by other Strays and street rats.”

 Chan nodded. “That, we did. You see, we were asking around for a Kim Hyunseok. It seems that no one has ever heard of him.”

 Na’s patience was wearing out. Minho saw her hand twitch, and when he glanced over, he saw a gun tucked into the back of her pants. “Your _point_ , Chan?”

 Chan shrugged. “I thought it was weird. Your leader being so elusive. We searched everywhere, and nothing. Then I got a call from Woojin. Do you know Woojin?”

 Na’s lip twitched, but she remained silent.

 “Oh, well. He knows the city like the back of his hand. It took him less than an hour to track down the address of Kim Hyunseok. An apartment on the darker side of the street, correct?” Chan asked, but he didn’t wait for a response. “At first, I warned him to stay away, but the Strays have a tendency to not listen.” Chan shrugged, shooting a meaningful glance to Minho.

 In response, Minho’s eyes shifted to Jisung, who was looking at Chan in confusion, like he’d heard none of this before. Chan’s eyes were dark but confident, the look that a chess player gets when they know they’re about to play the winning move.

 “Do you know who lives at that apartment, Na?”

 Na’s fists clenched, her hand twitching once again towards her gun. Minho’s heart sped up, but he didn’t dare say anything. He caught Jisung’s eye once again, then, ever so slightly, nodded towards Na, his eyes shifting to where she kept her gun. Jisung’s eyes darkened, and Minho hoped that meant he understood.

 The lockpick in Minho’s hand felt heavier by the second, but he kept still, waiting.

 Chan continued. “Turns out, that apartment was _previously_ under the name of Kim Hyunseok, who was occupying the apartment and paying _half the price_ he should be. But they were notified by neighbors that no one ever came in or out, and the apartment building terminated the contract, then raised the price of the apartment back to its original. It’s a shame the whole city is focused on profit, isn’t it?” Chan said. “To answer my previous question, no one lives in that apartment. And no one has for years. Actually, some of the residents think Kim Hyunseok is dead. But you know what I think?”

 Minho kept a close eye on Na’s hand again, waiting for it to move. The fact that this was supposed to be a civilized meaning obviously meant nothing to her, based on the fact that the Sharks outnumbered the Strays by a long shot. Minho saw Na’s hand shift, and he was ready to shout a warning, but he was cut off by running, and a shouted, “Na!”

 Her hand snapped back to place, and she turned her head. She was grinning again, and Minho’s stomach dropped. “Finally,” she said. “I was getting impatient.”

 Two men approached them, and Minho recognized them as having also been in the alley all that time ago, their matching Shark tooth tattoos that indicated they were a member of the gang clear on their bare arms. “We found them,” one of the men said.

 “What are you waiting for, then? Bring them here, along with the rest of the men,” Na ordered impatiently.

 The two men exchanged a glance, and the first one spoke up again. “There were... complications.”

 Na narrowed her eyes. “What kind of complications?”

 The man shifted nervously. “We have both of the Strays, but the rest of the men are... incapacitated.”

 Na rubbed her head, as if she had a sudden headache. “What the hell happened?”

 “They proved harder to take down than we imagined,” the man responded.

 “There were two of them!” Na shouted.

 Minho stifled a laugh, and Na whipped around instantly, slapping him. It happened in a flash–the guard’s grip on his arm loosening as he jolted to the side. He shook his head, trying to regain his composure, eyes dragging over the furious look on Jisung’s face and his tense shoulders. He grinned up at Na, meeting her eyes, then promptly spat on her shoes, bloody pink spit the color of bubblegum landing on pristine white laces. Minho’s only regret was that he was on his knees, and couldn’t spit in her face.

 Minho kept laughing, and her face twisted angrily. She aimed a kick at his stomach, and he doubled over, causing the guard to release him entirely. “Ouch,” he muttered, his voice sounding sarcastic, even though the pain rattled through him. Still, it was the distraction he’d needed. He finally loosened the grip on the pick in his hand, and began to work on the lock.

 “Show me some respect next time, street rat,” Na hissed, completely unaware. She turned back to her men. “Bring them in.”

 They nodded and turned to leave.

 Na fixed her glare back on Chan, her hands settling on her hips. “Was that your plan? Keep me talking while two of your dogs creep around for back up?”

 Chan shrugged. “It worked. And I told the truth, didn’t I?”

 Na grit her teeth. “It doesn’t matter, though. You think you know everything, don’t you? Always have.”

 Chan raised his eyebrows. “You look awfully nervous, Na. Any particular reason?”

 From his place on the floor, Minho watched as Na’s hand drifted towards her gun again, slowly. Chan’s eyes hadn’t left Na’s face since they started talking, and he doubted he noticed the movement. He tried to work faster with the lock, but he couldn’t see what he was doing and he’d never been in handcuffs before. His fingers kept slipping.

 “I don’t think I know everything,” Chan continued. “But I have a pretty good guess.”

 Na drew her gun. Minho watched her do it, in one fluid movement, and he felt like the world slowed down. Without thinking, Minho inched himself forward, kicking his leg out at the last second to catch Na’s, right as her gun went off. She stumbled, her aim messing up. The bullet landed in the wall somewhere behind Chan.

 Na screamed in frustration, turning her gun on Minho. His hands stilled. Behind her, the two men returned, a third man in a mask and hat bearing the same Shark tattoo trailing behind, holding onto Woojin and Changbin, both of them with their hands bound behind their backs.

 “Stay where you are!” Na yelled at Chan. “Say another word, and I’ll kill him.”

 Chan’s eyes narrowed. Jisung shot him a panicked look, but didn’t dare move. Minho held his breath. He continued to work on the lock.

 Chan spoke anyways. “You know what your problem is?”

 Jisung’s whole body froze. He watched Na carefully, like he wanted nothing more to look away, but couldn’t bring himself to. Minho’s heart pounded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Na’s finger squeeze the slightest bit over the trigger. But she hesitated. Panic made his fingers work faster, more accurately, and, after what felt like centuries, he felt a small _click_ , and the handcuffs came loose around his wrists.

 Minho silently urged Jisung to meet his eyes, and when the younger did, he winked. Confusion replaced the fear that Minho had previously seen in Jisung’s face.

 “A good leader should know her own members,” Chan said, a note of finality to his voice.

 Minho closed his eyes, then lunged up, knocking Na’s gun out of her hand. He watched it slide over the floor, away from her. A gunshot went off, loud and clear, leaving his ears ringing. He flinched, eyes screwed shut, waiting to feel something–pain or blood–but there was nothing.

 Then, a cry next to him.

 His eyes tore open, and he saw Na holding her arm, blood pouring over her fingers. Chan’s eyes were cold, emotionless.

 The guards behind him shouted, and he heard the sound of guns being pulled. More gunshots erupted–coming from the same direction as the first one. Minho hit the floor at the same time Na scrabbled for her gun. He wouldn’t make it there before her, so he stretched forward, kicking the weapon as far away as possible, hoping it wouldn’t just end up in another guard’s hands.

 He watched as Changbin bent down and retrieved the gun, then he ducked behind one of the containers. He watched in disbelief as Woojin followed him, then Felix.

_Felix._

 He was dressed in the same mask as the guards, his hat long forgotten on the floor. Minho almost laughed, eyes following the tattoo on Felix’s forearm. He’d never known that the boy still had the tattoo, but it made sense. He’d only ever seen Felix wear layers or long sleeves.

 Na ran back towards the men that had been behind them, and, when Minho looked, he realized there were less than he’d originally thought. He counted five or six, all of them retreating to take cover. Minho felt exposed, the only one still in the middle of the warehouse. He cursed, trying to find the best direction to take cover. After so long being kept in a room, bound to the chair, his legs felt week.

 With every amount of strength he had left, he began to crawl somewhat blindly in the direction the Strays had disappeared, keeping low to avoid the gunshots.

 Hands settled around him again, and he jerked away in panic. He was so close, he couldn’t let himself be brought back to the Sharks. He reared backwards, his head catching the face of whoever was touching him.

 “Ow! Fuck! It’s Changbin, you idiot I’m trying to get this shit off you,” the man said.

 Minho stilled in relief. Changbin grabbed his arm, tugging him upwards and helping him steady himself with an arm around his middle. Minho pulled the gag out of his mouth bitterly, throwing the cloth to the floor.

 “Come on, we have to get covered,” Changbin said, leading him towards one of the containers and ungracefully pushing him behind it.

 Minho breathed heavily, happy to have the air flow freely through his mouth. He glanced at Changbin. “Thanks,” he said, voice croaking.

 Changbin scoffed, but Minho didn’t miss the subtle relief in his eyes. “Well, it was the least I could do,” he grumbled.

 Minho laughed out loud, then leaned his head back against the container. Guns were still firing all around them, but for now, he let himself try to breathe. “It’s good to be back.”

 “Don’t speak too soon,” Changbin said darkly. He pressed Na’s gun into Minho’s hand, with a meaningful look. “We’re not out of here yet.”

 Minho’s hand tightened around the handle of the gun, nodding. He peeked around the corner of the container, then flattened his back again, just barely missing a bullet. “Is Na really the leader of the Sharks?”

 Changbin laughed shallowly. “It was just a theory. Chan wasn’t sure until he saw her reaction.”

 Minho chuckled, shaking his head. “He’s fucking crazy. Did Jisung know?”

 “No,” Changbin replied. He leaned around the corner of the container, aimed, then fired a shot. Minho briefly heard someone shout in pain, and Changbin came back grinning. “Chan thought it would lure Na into a false sense of security if it looked like he didn’t know what he was talking about. Jisung’s confusion was probably what kept Na from pulling her gun so long.”

 Minho saw the logic in the plan, but he still didn’t like that Jisung didn’t know everything. The younger probably wouldn’t, either, but he figured that wasn’t really the current problem.

 Minho leaned over, firing a shot of his own, before movement caught his eye. He watched as Na slid from container to container, occasionally firing off shots. He pulled back. “Na’s on the move,” he said.

 “Smart girl,” Changbin said calmly. “She’s probably on her way to Chan.”

 Minho looked around, unable to find the leader. “Where is he?”

 Changbin shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “With Jisung.”

 “Do you–?” he cut himself off, not sure how to ask if Changbin would be able to hold his own if he left to go find them. 

 Changbin hummed, giving him a knowing look. “Go, I’ve got this.”

 Minho nodded in response, not sure what else to say. He glanced back at the Sharks, judging the best time to make a run for the next container. He rested his hand on Changbin’s arm, a wordless acknowledgment going between them, and then he was gone.

 He wasn’t fast. His days of being underfed and sitting in that chair had weakened him, and his legs screamed in protest. He made it to the container, then rested. Then he did it again.

 A bullet hit his leg, shallowly, sliding over his skin like a finger through water, and he bit his tongue, trying not to cry out in pain. He compelled himself to keep moving.

 He imagined he was dancing. It was a similar pain, the feeling of wanting to stop but knowing that he had to go just _one more time._ It was coupled with the thrill he got from fighting, and he realized he was more in his element than he'd ever been. He’d finally caught sight of Chan a couple containers away, standing with Jisung. Together, they created a rhythm. Turn, fire, stop, reload, breathe, turn, fire. They followed the same beat that he did, his feet pounding over the cement.

 When he was only one storage container away, he caught sight of Na. She was diagonal him, but behind Chan and Jisung, a new gun in hand. Minho was trying to catch his breath, panic flaring in his chest when he realized that he wouldn’t make it to them in time.

 She raised her gun, aiming, eyes trained on Chan, and Minho knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. Breathless, desperate, he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Chan watch out!”

 The man startled, and turned to him.

 Na’s gun went off.

 Chan crumpled to the ground, and Minho felt terror overtake him when the leader didn’t immediately get up.

 Jisung fell to the floor beside Chan, forgetting about the threat. Minho saw him scramble to cover a wound, panic clear on the boy’s face, but Minho couldn’t make out where the wound was.

 He forced himself to tear his eyes away from them and back to Na, but it was too late. She’d already refocused her aim on Jisung, her finger squeezing the trigger.

 Minho shouted, his worst fear coming to life, but the gunshot didn’t come. Minho’s stomach lurched. Na was out of bullets. From where he stood, he could see her swear, then lower her gun to refill it.

 Minho’s heart began to pound, and, without thinking, he raised his own hand. His fingers shook so badly he wasn’t sure if he could aim. His first shot went so far over her head that she didn’t even notice. He cursed, trying to breathe. He watched her hands struggle with another cartridge, felt his seconds tick by. He _had_ to make this shot. He gripped the gun–Na’s gun, he thought, with a hint of satisfaction–tighter.

 He inhaled, steadied his hand best he could, and pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I love cliffhangers so much? 
> 
> Also I really hope it doesn't come completely out of the blue that Na is the real leader. I'll explain more about that in the coming chapters, but there's a little plot twist for fun. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!!! Action is one of the more difficult things for me to write, so I hope I did it justice. Plus, so much happens in this chapter :') 
> 
> Tell me what you think!!! ;)


	27. Chapter 27

 Minho had never been a good aim. That’s why he’d always preferred fists to guns–a more honest, man-to-man battle. He could coordinate his punches, be close enough to his opponents to find their weaknesses.

 But here, holding a smoking gun, and watching the bullet indent itself in the side of the storage container, Minho thought that the only weaknesses on display were his own. He was too far away to strike the way he knew how, too far away to make anything about this a fair battle, but close enough to see the way Na’s face contorted in anger as she whipped around to find him there.

 Minho swallowed his panic, and watched her point the gun at him instead. _At least it’s not at Jisung,_ he thought. His heart went wild, his stomach dropped and he felt sick, but he cocked his gun once again, and aimed it. Na raised her eyebrow, and something told Minho that she really could see past him. He’d already missed two shots, if it came down to both of them firing at each other, did Minho really think he could walk away from it?

 He straightened his back, pushed his shoulders up, and didn’t back down. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but neither of them wanted to be the first–or last–to fire. He knew he should just _take the fucking shot_ , but if he missed–well, _she_ wouldn’t.

 He saw her finger tighten ever so slightly on the trigger, as if she knew she was messing with him. Minho did his best not to flinch.

 He should shoot again.

 But he was frozen in place.

 If he didn’t shoot, he knew where she’d point her gun next, and he couldn’t let that happen.  
   
 He watched the smirk on her face, then grit his teeth and didn’t give her any time to react when he fired.

 She let out a screech as the bullet grazed her left arm, and she stumbled back momentarily. Minho breathed out a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. When she regained her stance, there was no more humor in her face, and Minho knew she was done messing around.

 Minho also knew he’d just used his last bullet.

 Na didn’t so much as hesitate to lift and aim the gun once again, determination set into her face, and when Minho heard the gunshot go off, he flinched on instinct, waiting for the pain to course through him.

 His breaths were hurried, but he never felt that pain. His eyes fluttered open, and landed on Na sprawled out on the ground. There was a steady pool of blood surrounding her, and her gun had slid across the floor. Minho stared at it in disbelief before his head shot up to find the shooter.

 Jisung stood, placing himself in front of Chan, who had managed to pull himself into a sitting position against one of the containers. His hand was still outstretched, the gun smoldering when he dropped it. There was a cold, dark look in his eyes, and Minho’s breath hitched. Neither of them had noticed Jisung stand up, too caught in the immediate threat.

 Jisung turned his head towards Minho, who realized for the first time that Jisung was breathing heavily. The second their gazes met, Jisung’s eyes softened, and he collapsed to his knees again, as if he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

 Minho ran forward without a second thought, mind absent of the lingering threat. The gunshots were still going off, but there were less of them, long pauses between each deafening sound, and Minho knew it was almost over.

 Minho only stopped when he’d fallen to the floor directly in front of Jisung, knee to knee. He could hardly breathe as he took Jisung’s face into his hands, searching for any sign of injury. He couldn’t believe he was _here_ , Minho was holding him again and all he wanted to do was kiss him and tell him he loved him–

 “Chan-hyung,” Jisung choked out, tears streaming freely from his eyes. “She shot–” he couldn’t get the words out past his sobs, but Minho knew.

 Minho didn’t want to let Jisung go, could barely stand letting him out of his sight, but his heart dropped as he looked past Jisung’s shoulder. Minho all but crawled over to Chan.

 His hand was pressed to a gunshot wound in his stomach. Minho felt sick with fear as he made his way to his side. He moved to touch him, but his hands fell still at his side, not sure what he could do to help. Jisung had tied a piece of cloth–part of his shirt, Minho realized–around his stomach to help stop but the bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. They needed Changbin, or Woojin, but he had no clue where either of them were in the midst of the continuous gunshots.

 “Hyung–” Minho stuttered out.

 Chan tried to smile, meeting his eyes. “Good to have you back, Minho,” he responded. The words came out strained with pain, but Chan forced them out anyways.

 Minho shook his head. “Hyung, you shouldn’t have–”

 “Forget it, Minho,” Chan muttered. “There’s no way we were going to leave you here.”

 Jisung had crawled to Chan’s other side, still crying silently, and grasped his hand. “Chan-hyung,” he said. “You’ll be okay.”

 Chan nodded absentmindedly, and Minho wondered how aware the leader actually was. His eyelids were fluttering like he was struggling with consciousness and his skin had gone ghostly pale, slick with sweat.

 Minho fought another stroke of panic, grabbing Chan’s other hand, if only for something for both of them to hold onto. “You’ll be okay,” he repeated, unsure of what else he could say. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.” The humor in his words was undermined by the wobble in his voice, as his own tears began to fall, and he swallowed the need to sob outright.

 Chan squeezed his hand, a short action, the pressure barely there, but it made Minho’s heart stutter in his chest. “You’re a Stray, now,” he said. “I don’t even give a fuck if you don’t want to be.”

 Minho laughed wetly, pulling their combined hands up to his face like he was praying. He remembered asking Chan to join the Strays, even if it felt like a lifetime ago now. He remembered his response, too. _I don’t let a member join before I know that there isn’t anything that they wouldn’t do for the gang–that there isn’t anything I would do for them. It’s a mutual relationship._

 Minho’s chest ached as he stared down at the leader _–his leader._ “I’d be honored,” he whispered, “to be a Stray. To have you as my leader.”

 Chan nodded, then his eyes fluttered, his gaze drifting to Jisung. “Don’t cry, Sungie,” he said. “You said I’ll be fine. Listen.”

 Even though the words weren’t directed at him, Minho paused, ears straining to catch what Chan was talking about. He listened, hearing only silence. The gunshots had stopped.

 Minho’s head shot up, and he briefly made eye contact with one of Na’s men. His face was solemn as they made eye contact, both of them freezing, and Minho was too aware that he was unarmed. The man ducked his head in a nod, then gathered Na–the Shark’s leader, Minho realized–in his arms. Minho wondered what would happen with them now. Wondered if Na was even still alive, and if the Sharks had known about her real standing in the gang. But as he watched the man turn his back on the Strays and walk away, his leader’s body limp in his arms, Minho understood that it was a problem for another day. He wasn’t ready to forgive the Sharks, but this conflict was over.

 Minho let himself hope a little as Jisung said, “It’s over, hyung. We’re going to get help for you.”

 Chan nodded again, like that took all the effort in the world. “Minho?” he asked.

 Minho stiffened, leaning in closer. “I’m still here,” he responded, voice soft. He glanced at Jisung, at the fear and agony in his eyes as he tried not to cry. He swallowed. “What is it, hyung?”

 Chan stared at him, a serious look in his eyes. “Take care of them,” he said. “Please. I need to know you’ll take care of them,” his words were hurried, desperate.

 Minho furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Hyung, of course, why are you–”

 Chan shook his head, his breathing coming more rapidly. Jisung let out a whimper next to him. “Take care of them,” Chan managed to get out, before he fell unconscious, going deathly still.

 Jisung let out a sob, shaking his head. He pulled Chan’s head into his hands. “Chan!”

 Minho’s heart sunk, but he crawled toward Jisung, pulling the smaller boy into his arms and cradling his head. “Shh,” he hushed, rocking them back and forth as Jisung curled up and cried. “He’s going to be okay, Jisung. We just have to wait for the others, and we’ll get him help.”

 Jisung shook, crying. “He needs to stay awake,” he mumbled.  
   
 Minho bundled him closer, as close as he could fit him into his chest. He tucked his head over Jisung’s shoulder, placing a soft kiss to his neck first. “He’ll be okay,” he said again.

 They didn’t have to wait long for the others to find them. Changbin’s eyes scanned over Minho and Jisung briefly, giving them a pained smile when he realized they were both unharmed, before he immediately set to looking at Chan’s wound. He cursed when he pulled away the binding that Jisung had wrapped around it.

 Minho met his eyes, a question in them, and Changbin shook his head. “We need to get him to a hospital. Now.”

 Woojin stood, frozen, his face almost as white as Chan’s, but whatever trance he was in seemed to be broken when Changbin started throwing orders at him.

 Felix was the last to appear, looking torn between the sudden business and urgency in Changbin’s voice and Jisung and Minho. Finally he nodded to the pair on the floor, then settled to help Changbin. Minho didn’t miss the relieved way Changbin squeezed his hand.

 They were hesitant to move Chan–too much jostling could make the wound worse–but they couldn’t call an ambulance here, either. Not with the bullet holes and blood splattered everywhere. Luckily, there were no bodies, and Minho hoped quietly that there wouldn’t be any casualties.

 As carefully as possible, Woojin and Changbin carried Chan, out to the car that was waiting for them, a familiar face waiting behind the wheel with an unreadable expression.

 Minho blinked at Jackson, but decided that now wasn’t the time for questions. Jackson met his gaze, and there was something in that look that told Minho that he was thinking the same thing.

 He tore his eyes away from the other man, then reached out to grab Jisung’s hand. The younger still didn’t say anything, but his fingers tightened around Minho’s gratefully.

 Felix walked on his other side, glancing at him like he might disappear if he looks away for too long, and if it hadn’t been such a terrible day, Minho might have laughed. Instead, he asked, “Seungmin? Hyunjin and Jeongin?”

 “They all stayed at the house,” he said softly. “Chan had all of the locks changed, and Seungmin upgraded the security as much as possible. They’re safe.”  
   
 Minho nodded, relieved, before his attention turned to Felix’s arm. “I didn’t realize you had... the tattoo,” he said, cringing at his own words.

 Felix grimaced, rolling his sleeve down to cover it. “It’s a requirement by all Sharks,” he said, then sighed. “I suppose they’ll all know for sure I’m with the Strays now.”

 “And they’ll know even more not to fuck with you,” Minho replied fiercely.

 Felix smiled a little, first at the ground, then directed at Minho. “Welcome to the Strays, Minho.”

 Jisung’s hand tightened around his again, but he didn’t say anything.

—

 Woojin stayed at the hospital overnight.

 It had been a difficult drive, the tension was high between all of the members, and Jackson wasn’t exactly the most easygoing driver, especially with Chan bleeding out on the floor of the van, head resting in Woojin’s lap. Minho didn’t think he’d ever seen someone drive so fast. Jackson’s face was set in concentration, swerving around any car that was going anything less than twenty over the speed limit.

 Doctors had rushed them the second they entered, and Chan was immediately swept away to the ICU, leaving Minho, Jisung, and Woojin standing awkwardly in the waiting room, still caked in blood. Woojin volunteered to stay behind and feed the doctors a believable story, as well as keep the others updated on Chan’s condition. Minho didn’t like how ominous those words sounded, but they’d agreed nevertheless.

 The way back to the house was silent. Minho still hadn’t released Jisung’s hand, the idea itself sending anxiety coursing through him, as if the younger might disappear if he let go. Jisung had stopped crying, but he was still strangely silent, eyes distant as he stared at the floor. Minho drew his thumb over the back of his Jisung’s hand, the action comforting, a reminder to both of them that he was there.

 Across from them, tears stained Felix’s cheeks, but he was quiet, unable to fill the silence. Changbin’s face was unreadable, his jaw set. Still, when Minho met his eyes, he nodded at him.

 Minho rested his head back against the seat, taking a deep breath. He knew it hadn’t been long, but he didn’t like that they hadn’t heard from Woojin yet. He tried to tell himself that at this point, maybe no news was good news.

 He didn’t know where it would leave the Strays if they lost their leader. Minho didn’t want to even begin to think about that, but he couldn’t help it. Chan was the glue that held them all together, and without him he knew they would all fall apart. He knew that, after Chan, the best option for a leader would be Woojin, but... Minho sighed. After what he had seen of Woojin today, he didn’t think the older would be ready to step up to such a position any time soon.

 Minho hadn’t realized how impossibly sad he was. It felt like his whole heart had been torn out of his chest. The only time he remembered feeling anything like this had been Younghyun, but Minho refused to compare the two. Chan _had_ to be okay, because it was so much more than the Strays losing a leader, he realized. He’d be losing a friend.

 As if he could read his thoughts, Jackson glanced up through the rearview mirror, and Minho met his gaze. There was again a flicker of emotion–a question–but then Jackson was shaking his head, his attention returning to the road.

 Minho pulled his and Jisung’s combined hands to his lips, lightly pressing kisses to the younger’s fingers, lingering on the back of his hand. Jisung didn’t say anything, but he shifted closer to Minho, moving to rest his head on his shoulder.

 Minho swallowed his emotions, trying to be strong for Jisung. It was going to okay.

 He didn’t realize he’d mumbled those last words until he felt Jisung nod, the movement small, hesitant, but there.

—

 Jeongin rushed into Minho’s arms the second the door was opened. Behind him, Hyunjin offered a warm smile that melted off his face when he noticed the solemn expressions of the members entering the house. Seungmin was sitting at the table, eyes dull as he, too, took in the returning members.  
   
 Jeongin pulled away to wrap his arms around Jisung, then Felix, then Changbin, then he stopped, face falling and eyebrows furrowing. He looked up at Changbin. “Where–”

 “At the hospital,” Minho said, his voice soft and hoarse. “Chan is–hurt. Woojin stayed with him.”

 Minho watched as Jeongin struggled to take in the information, eyes watering and lip trembling. Jisung wordlessly pulled him into another hug, and Minho thought his heart might shrivel and die. He could hardly breathe past the lump in his throat.

 After Changbin had seen to any minor wounds, stitching them up quickly and effectively, they all gathered wordlessly around the dining room table, as they had so many times before, trying to ignore the empty seats. Even Jackson took a seat, and if he felt any discomfort, he didn’t show any sign of it. They were silent for a long time, everyone too scared to break it.

 Finally, Minho leaned forward. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, because he didn’t know what else to say.

 Changbin shook his head quickly, mouth set in a grim line. “No, this isn’t your fault. It’s all that _bitch’s_ –”

 “How did he know?” Minho asked. “That Na was their leader?”

 “Like I said, he didn’t, not really,” Changbin replied. “We went to the underground as soon as we could, under the guise of getting information. Mostly, we just wanted to distract the Sharks as Woojin sniffed around their supposed leader. When we found out that the apartment was a fake, Chan began connecting the dots and figured he could use _that_ information against them. But I think his main plan was to keep them talking until they ‘found’ us–” he gestured at himself and Felix “–and brought us in. He wanted them to think they had the upper hand.”  
   
 Minho glanced at Jisung, waiting for the younger to protest or make a comment about being in the dark about Na’s true position in the gang, but he was silent, lip caught between his teeth as he stared at the table. Minho rested his hand on his leg, tracing circles through the fabric of his pants comfortingly. All he wanted was to be away from all of this, to hold Jisung and make sure he was okay, but he knew there were other priorities.

 “What happened to you, Minho-hyung?” Jeongin asked, his voice small. But there was a sad glint in his eyes that told Minho he needed to know, if only to set his mind at rest. “Did they hurt you?”

 Minho shook his head. “No–not really. They, uh, kept me in the room.” He looked at Jisung nervously, noticing the way his shoulders tensed. He kept his hand on him, as a tether, trying to keep him calm. _I’m here,_ it seemed to say. _I’m not going anywhere._ “I’m okay.”

 At that, Jackson leaned forward, eyes intense. “Where did they keep you?”

 “I don’t know,” Minho answered honestly. “They blindfolded me, but it’s close to the warehouse, within five minutes. They took a lot of turns, so many that I eventually lost track of where we were.”

 Jackson didn’t seem to be satiated with that. “What else can you tell me?”

 Minho furrowed his eyebrows, trying to think. “I’m–not sure. The place they kept me must have been big, at least two stories and rather wide. It was probably a house of some kind.”

 “Was there anyone else there? Not a Shark?” Jackson demanded.

 Minho opened his mouth to say _no_ , until he remembered the girl. He blinked as he pictured her face–so full of worry and guilt. “Nayeon,” he murmured.

 Jackson froze. “What did you say?”

 Minho glanced up at him. “Nayeon was there. She wasn’t–” he hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “She didn’t seem to be there against her will. She wasn’t tied or anything. She brought me my food everyday. But now that I think about it, I think the Sharks wanted to taunt me.” Minho looked directly at Changbin as he said, “She betrayed us, didn’t she? She’s the reason behind the attack?”

 The way Jackson bristled at the words didn’t go unnoticed, but Changbin only nodded wordlessly.

 Although he’d known that was the answer, it still hurt, and he couldn’t imagine how Jisung must be feeling. He knew they’d been friends. Jisung was endlessly loyal, but–

 “She’s my sister,” Jackson said. The word was quiet, as if he’d only breathed them, but it seemed to ring in Minho’s ears like a roar. There it was, the question that had been in Jackson’s eyes ever since he’d met them at the car. It was probably the reason he’d come, too, to get information out of Minho as soon as possible.

 “ _She betrayed us_ ,” Jisung bit out, speaking for the first time since they’d left the warehouse. His eyes still remained stubbornly glued to the table, but his voice was strong.

 “Jisung could’ve died because of her,” Seungmin mumbled.

 “I killed someone because of her,” Jisung said, the words cold, detatched.

 Jackson’s eyes hardened, but he didn’t look away from Minho’s face. “She’s my sister,” he repeated, more strongly this time. “I’d do anything to get her back.”

 Jisung tensed, but didn’t say anything more. Minho glanced at him before he nodded to Jackson. “I will never forgive her for betraying my members,” Minho began, the anger in his voice resonating among all eight of the people sitting around the table. He sighed, forcing himself to calm down. Forcing himself to shove away the images of Jisung bleeding and crying on the floor of his room, the dead man barely five feet away. “But she also saved my life.”

 Minho saw relief flash through Jackson’s eyes, and he wondered if he’d thought his sister was entirely lost to him. Minho had long ago realized that gangs changed people, and if Nayeon had gone so far as to betray the Strays, he doubted she was the sister Jackson thought he knew. Still, Minho could offer him some hope. “I don’t know how she did it, but she stole the key to my handcuffs, and she gave them to me. She probably risked her life to do that.” He paused, then added. “And she–she asked about Jisung.”

 Jisung stiffened, then pointedly looked away.

 “She wanted to know if you were okay,” he said softly.

 When Jisung didn’t respond, Minho sat back in his chair. “If I remember anything else about where I was, anything that can help you, I’ll tell you,” he said to Jackson.

 Jackson dipped his head. “Thank you,” he said, and Minho knew he meant it. There was a brief moment of silence before Jackson stood, nodding his head to those still around the table. “I’ll leave you. I’m sure there are things you want to say without prying ears,” he told them, and then he was gone.

 Once again, everyone was quiet, with no idea what to say.

 Carefully, Jeongin cleared his throat. “Minho-hyung? Did you say _your_ members?” Minho wondered if he imagined the hopeful glint in the youngest’s eyes.

 The side of Minho’s mouth lifted, something almost akin to a smile. “I did,” he confirmed.

 Hyunjin blinked at him. “Does that mean–?”

 “Yes, I’m a Stray,” Minho said. “Officially.”

 He waited, staring directly at Hyunjin as the words left his mouth. Hyunjin had known him for the longest amount of time, had gone through the loss of Younghyun with him, and probably hated gangs more than Minho did. Still, Hyunjin offered him a tiny smile, looking between him and Jisung.

 Jisung’s hand snuck into Minho’s, their fingers threading together perfectly. Minho tried not to let out a sigh of relief at the action.

 “What happens next?” Minho said, asking the question that no one wanted to voice. “If Chan–” he stopped himself, not daring to say what was on all of their minds.

 Changbin shook his head. “We wait,” he said. “I refuse to believe that anything bad is going to happen to him. And I refuse to make plans for anything until we know what’s going to happen.”

 Minho pressed his lips together, but he nodded. Chan’s words to him were floating in his head, and though he didn’t know how to interpret them, he knew he would honor them no matter what. _Take care of them._ Not just him–not just Jisung– _them._ Minho looked at the members-- _his_ members--his team, and he knew that he would. He would protect the Strays with his life.

 As if in answer to the silence that had settled over them like a suffocating blanket, Changbin’s phone buzzed against the table. They all froze, and time seemed to slow as Changbin reached for it, Felix reading the text over his shoulder. Changbin’s face gave nothing away, and Minho felt every muscle in his body tighten as he prepared himself for the worst. “He’s stable,” Changbin said, meeting their eyes over his phone. “He’s stable.”

 Minho let out a long breath, and it felt like he hadn’t truly been able to breathe in centuries. Next to him, Jisung slumped a little in relief.

 Another buzz sounded from Changbin’s phone, and he frowned, eyes flickering down to read over the words. He sucked in a breath, then set his phone down. All of the relief in his eyes left, his expression as unreadable as ever.

 Felix reached for the phone hesitantly. “The bullet was deeper than we thought. It hit his spine,” he read through a shuddering breath. “The doctors won’t be sure of any lasting effects until he wakes up.”

 “What does that mean?” Jeongin asked, his voice small.

 Minho met Changbin’s eyes, suddenly dark, his face drawn. “It means–” Minho swallowed, fighting to keep his voice steady. “It means he might not walk again.”

—

 Two hours later, Jisung wordlessly tugged Minho’s hand, and the two of them easily slipped upstairs with nothing but a couple glances of understanding. They separated long enough for both of them to shower.

 Minho, finally in clean clothes, waited in the room that Jisung had been staying in as he avoided thinking about the room they used to share. He banished the images from that night, even though they were persistent.

 By the time the door to the room had opened, he’d schooled his face into a neutral expression. His heart ached when Jisung walked in, towel still running through his damp hair, eyes going anywhere but at him, and Minho realized that Jisung hadn’t really _looked_ at him since the warehouse. Then, his eyes had been a mixture of terror and desperation, now they were unsure, sad.

 “Come here,” Minho said softly, neither a demand or a request.

 Finally, Jisung met his eyes, and Minho hated the wariness that flickered through them, before Jisung stumbled towards the bed, melting into Minho’s arms. His body shook, but he didn’t cry as Minho silently picked up the discarded towel and began to gently dry the smaller boy’s hair.

 After a while, Jisung relaxed in his arms, and the towel was replaced by Minho’s fingers, running through his hair. Jisung caught the older’s hands, holding it against his cheek before he turned and placed a feather-light kiss to his palm, eyes still closed.

 Minho’s breath hitched. “Jisung–”

 Jisung shook his head, effectively cutting him off. “When I woke up alone, and I learned you’d gone on the raid–” Jisung’s breath stuttered, but he made eye contact with Minho, eyes wide and honest, and forced himself to continue. “I’ve never felt like that before. So–so empty. Terrified. It was like a part of me left and then said it wasn’t coming back. And then you didn’t.”

 Minho sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Don’t apologize,” Jisung said softly. “I understand why you did it. It wasn’t just for me, it was for the team. _Our_ team.”

 Minho could feel his fingers shake, but he pushed back Jisung’s hair, then swiped his thumb across his cheek, heart full of love and pure adoration. “Our team,” he whispered back to him.

 “Did you mean it? That you’re–”

 “I’m not going anywhere, Jisung,” Minho murmured, finally breathing the words he’d wanted to ever since he’d found him again, hand still cupping his face. “I’ll be by your side until the day you don’t want me, and maybe even longer after that.”

 Jisung stifled a laugh. The sound was hesitant, quiet, still a little broken, but Minho loved it–could listen to it forever. “I’ll always want you by my side, Minho,” he responded.

 Minho hummed happily. He pulled on Jisung’s hand until he’d settled both of them back on the bed, Jisung nestled in his arms, and their legs entangled. “Forever, then.”

 “And maybe even longer after that?” Jisung whispered, a hint of a laugh in his tone.

 Minho pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And maybe even longer after that,” he agreed.

 A comfortable silence rested around them, and though he knew neither of them would sleep, a calm that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for days began to work its way through him. He touched Jisung softly, fingers absentmindedly slipping through the damp strands of Jisung’s hair.

 When Jisung spoke again, his voice was serious. “I watched the camera,” he said, the words coming out so softly, Minho almost didn’t hear them.

 Minho’s hand stilled in Jisung’s hair for a fraction of a second, before he continued like it hadn’t happened. Minho hummed to show Jisung he was listening.

 Jisung took a deep breath, then leaned up on one elbow to look Minho in the face, searching his eyes. “Not just the one time,” he said. “I saw them tell you my name. I saw all of it. And I kept watching. The next day, and the next. I was too scared to look away, because–because if I did–”

 Minho touched his cheek, then ran his fingers over his jaw, then down his neck lightly. He wanted to kiss him, but instead, he whispered, “It’s okay, take your time. Breathe.”

 Jisung nodded, following his directions. He gathered himself, continuing after a short moment. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he said, his eyes so wide and vulnerable that it made Minho _ache_. “I was terrified, waiting for them to decide that you weren’t of use, or that they could–could hurt you. I couldn’t eat, or sleep, and I kept blaming myself.” He shuddered out a breath, leaning forward to press his forehead to Minho’s collarbone.

 “Don’t ever think that what happened was your fault,” Minho said fiercely. “I’m here now,” Minho told him, his voice much softer, thumb brushing over the back of his neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 Jisung nodded, then murmured something that Minho couldn’t catch.

 “What was that?” Minho asked gently, fingers gliding comfortingly down the younger’s back, over his waist, and back up.

 Jisung looked up again, meeting Minho’s eyes. There wasn’t a flicker of doubt in his gaze, only honesty and–Minho realized it right before Jisung’s mouth formed the words. “I love you,” Jisung breathed.

 Minho’s breath hitched, but he smiled so wide he thought he might never stop. He leaned up and softly connected their lips. It was a brief kiss, slow and sweet, but it meant more to Minho than any other kiss he’d ever shared. He pressed their foreheads together, not pulling very far away when he responded, breath ghosting over Jisung’s lips. “I love you, too. So, so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only like 2 chapters left, y'all


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one last twist

 Nothing had ever been _normal_ for Minho. His whole life had been a flurry of trouble, and things were always happening at paces that he couldn’t keep up with. He knew that there wasn’t a _normal_ when it came to him, but he was still trying to find it. The next week with the Strays was spent trying to smooth out any wrinkles caused by the confrontation with the Sharks. Rumors had already begun to surface amongst other gangs, especially in the underground, and Changbin especially had spent most of his time attempting to calm them–when he wasn’t at the hospital.

 The doctors were, apparently, hopeful that Chan would walk again, but it was unlikely that he would ever regain the grace or speed he’d once had, and he’d probably always need assistance. Minho had yet to see the leader in person to inquire how he felt about that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, just that he was too focused on doing what he could to help the Strays as the senior members of the gang spent time with their leader. Minho knew it was hard on all of them, but most of all on Woojin, Changbin, Jisung, and Seungmin, and he wanted to let them have their time together.

 Minho had spent most of the last week with Felix, who was no longer in hiding about his identity. Most everyone knew that Felix was an ex-Shark, but after what went down between the two gangs, no one seemed to want to make much of a fuss about it.

 A couple days after the altercation at the warehouse, Felix had broken down into tears at the dinner table. No one had known what to do, especially Changbin, who had just frozen and awkwardly rested a hand on the younger boy’s back. “I’m sorry,” Felix had sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

 Changbin cleared his throat. “Why?” he’d asked carefully, shooting the others a worried look.

 “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t run from the Sharks, none of this would’ve happened. So much bad...” Felix’s voice shook.

 Jisung had gone quiet, staring down at his food. Minho frowned at him, concern causing his heart to clench. Even though he’d only been back a couple of days, Minho had noticed that Jisung’s mood tended to shift rather rapidly. Sometimes he was fine, smiling and messing around with Jeongin in the living room. Other times, he was uncharacteristically quiet, staring at the walls like they spoke to him. If they could speak, Minho wondered what they’d say.

 The nightmares didn’t help either. Sleeping next to him, Minho woke every time Jisung called out, shaking in his sleep. He knew what plagued the younger boy, and each time he’d wake him, pull him closer and shush him softly, trying to cradle him back to sleep. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

 It was Minho who answered, because no one else seemed to know what to say. “If you hadn’t run away from the Sharks, who knows what could’ve happened to you. But the Strays wouldn’t have such a great person on their side, both a great asset to the gang itself and an amazing friend,” Minho said softly, speaking slowly to ensure that every word got through to him. “I probably wouldn’t have joined if it wasn’t for the confrontation between the two gangs, and even though we’ve all been through a lot of shit, it’s over now. We can’t change it.”

 Changbin nodded. “Besides,” he added, speaking slowly to pick his words carefully. “Tensions between the Strays and the Sharks have always been high. Something was bound to snap at some point.”

 Minho sighed, then offered Felix a small smile across the table. The younger boy still looked upset, but he nodded to them, muttering a _thank you, hyungs_ before he got up from the table. Jisung reached over to squeeze Minho’s hand, then followed Felix up the stairs. Minho watched them go, hoping that they’d be able to offer each other some kind of comfort.

 It was true, what Changbin said. Tensions had been high, and still waters can never remain calm. Maybe that was why Minho seemed to have such a hard time trying to find normal in the aftermath of the fight. He felt like he was waiting, muscles tense, for something to happen.

 The house had been open to some of the more trusted members of the Strays to come, invited by Changbin, who relayed orders from Chan. Minho caught some of it, mostly orders about the workings of the gang in the city. It seemed Chan wanted the Strays to move West, away from the Sharks for the time being. Minho was too busy trying to remember the names of some of the new members to recall any of the other information. There were too many names and faces appearing to keep track, but Seungmin had promised to help him memorize them.

 It was a bit of a fight to convince Jeongin to move back into his apartment. Seungmin had been able to hack into the Sharks’ system just enough to plant a false address under the name Yang Jeongin. On top of that, he’d managed to set up stronger security systems on both the apartment and the apartment building. If there was so much as a hair out of line, the Strays would know about it. But the security was only for Minho’s peace of mind, Jeongin couldn’t care less. He didn’t want to move away from the Strays.

 The argument had been a long one. At one point, Jeongin even begged them to let him join the gang. It was a unanimous agreement that Jeongin was too young, despite Jeongin’s huffed, “I’m hardly younger than Seungmin-hyung!”

 Minho must have argued with the younger for hours, and even Hyunjin gave up trying to calm both boys down after a while, deciding to simply leave them to it. Both sides were stubborn as mules. Minho wanted to make sure Jeongin was safe and had the option of an honest life, and Jeongin wanted to stay with the family he’d found. Minho knew he couldn’t– _wouldn’t_ tear him away from a single member of the Strays, but he’d still rather that he knew Jeongin was far away from this life.

 Finally, they settled on an agreement that Jeongin would finish high school, because there was only about three months left, and then on his nineteenth birthday they could revisit the idea of him joining the Strays. Jeongin didn’t necessarily like it– _“That’s like a year away, hyung!”_ –but he knew it was the only offer Minho was willing to make.

 He’d asked Hyunjin briefly what he was planning to do now, and the younger boy’s reply had been surprisingly simple. “I’m going back to medical school,” he’d said with no hesitation, then flashed Minho a bright grin. “Someone has to learn how to keep you boys properly stitched together.” Minho hadn’t quite known what he’d meant by that, but something in his heart had warmed nonetheless.

 So, Jeongin moved back to his apartment on the sixth night after Minho returned, with the promise that Minho would also move back to his own apartment–which Hyunjin was momentarily occupying–as soon as things were normal again.

 Which brought Minho back here. He didn’t know what normal was, especially for the Strays. Everything was so chaotic. Other gangs had heard about the confrontation between the two gangs, and it had somehow gotten out that both leaders were injured and no one knew about the condition of either. Apparently that meant that the gangs were weak, and the Strays were scrambling to keep themselves together before they were pushed out of the territories they’d earned. It was hard to do without a leader, and they were rapidly losing both allies and buyers.

 “Is it always this hard?” he asked Jisung one night.

 Jisung hummed in response, a questioning lilt to it that told Minho he was listening, even though the other boy was already half asleep.

 Minho sighed. “Aren’t you worried? We got away with the Sharks, but it wasn’t a clear win for either of us. With both gangs weakened, someone else is going to try and take over.”

 Jisung rolled over to look at him with soft eyes. “It’s cute that you’re concerned about this.”

 Minho frowned. Cute wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe it. Concerned also wasn’t the word he’d use to describe how he felt. Petrified, maybe. Desperate, definitely. “You’re not worried at all?” Minho pressed, disbelievingly.

 Jisung shrugged. “We always come back. This is a bad hit, and we’re weakened, yes, but we’re not weak. We’re already gaining more territory in the West. It’s important that we made that move, especially so quick after the fight with the Sharks. It shows the other gangs that we’re not fazed.”

 Minho breathed out, a little relieved. “What about Chan?”

 Jisung smiled sadly. “It’s hard to say. I know he’s doing okay–it’s impossible to get under his skin–but I’m still sad.”

 Minho reached for Jisung’s hand, fiddling with the latter’s fingers as he tried to steady himself for his next question. “Has he made any more progress with walking?”

 Jisung shook his head. “The doctors don’t want him out of bed yet. They don’t want to risk further injury. But they’re waiting to see if he’ll regain feeling in his legs. They’re still doing tests, too.”

 Minho nodded, deep in thought. He didn’t know how long Chan was going to have to stay at the hospital, how long until he was able to return to being the Strays’ leader. He was still pulling the shots, but he should be focusing on healing, making sure he came back stronger than ever. That thought made Minho frown, however. He didn’t know if that was possible anymore. Chan was capable of many things, but maybe not this one miracle. It was hard to accept that Chan might not be the same ever again.

 He looked at Jisung, the way the dim light from the hallway illuminated his face, making it look like he was glowing. After one particular bad night a couple of days ago, Minho had gotten out of bed to open their door, then flicked the switch in the hallway. Jisung had instantly relaxed, and Minho had wordlessly left the door open and the light on every night since. That same night Jisung had cried softly into Minho’s shoulder. _“What scares me,”_ he’d said, _“isn’t that I did it. It’s that I’d do it again.”_ He hadn’t said anything more, but he hadn’t needed to.

 Now, Minho thought the same thing about Jisung–whether or not he’d be the same. He knew all pain subsides and wounds heal, but sometimes he watched Jisung’s smile drop, heart aching, and he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was still too fresh.

 It was quiet between the two of them for a while, as they both stared into each other’s faces. Jisung was giving him a thoughtful look. He leaned forward to place a gentle, lingering kiss on Minho’s lips. “You should go talk to Chan tomorrow. I think he’s been wanting to have a conversation with you.”

 Minho shuddered, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Jisung’s soft lips or the slightly ominous words he’d spoken. “He isn’t offended that I haven’t gone to see him yet, is he?” he asked warily.

 Jisung giggled in response, rolling over and shuffling until his back was pressed against Minho’s chest, a subtle demand to be held. “I guess you’ll have to find out,” he whispered teasingly. “Now shut up and hold me, I’m tired.”

 It was times like these, Minho thought, that made him think he could find a normal. He pressed his forehead to the back of Jisung’s neck, waiting for the younger’s breaths to even out before he allowed himself to sleep. _Maybe,_ he thought, eyelids growing heavy, _the water can  remain still._

—

 The next day, Minho waited nervously outside of Chan’s hospital room. He brought flowers, but, in hindsight, he realized it was kind of dumb. The only thing that could’ve been more awkward is a _Get well soon!_ card and some chocolate.

 Woojin glanced at him with no small amount of amusement when he opened the door for him, then exited the room. Minho shot him a somewhat panicked look that read “You’re leaving me?” and Woojin only shrugged in response.

 He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so nervous about talking to Chan alone. Maybe it was a mixture of guilt and the lingering confusion over the last promise he’d made to him. He’d kept his word about looking after the members, trying to keep tensions low even as the members got antsy and frustrated over what exactly to do. Minho had taken the role of mediator–especially between Changbin and Jisung, who tended to argue more than actually get stuff done.

 Chan raised an eyebrow at Minho when he walked in, and Minho glanced down at the flowers, groaning in embarrassment. “Make one joke about them, and you’ll be wearing them,” Minho threatened, even though the words had no actual heat.

 Chan’s eyes were full of mirth as he raised his hands in surrender. “They’re beautiful,” he said, tone teasing.

 Minho rolled his eyes, placing them on the table next to Chan, then settled himself into the chair by Chan’s bed.

 “How are you?” Chan asked him.

 Minho blinked, then stifled a laugh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

 Chan shrugged. “I’m sure Jisungie has updated you on my condition. Not much has changed,” he said nonchalantly.

 Minho frowned. “Yes, but how _are_ you, hyung? Are you really–” Minho took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm. “Are you really okay?”

 Chan gave him a small smile. “I am, Minho-ah, please don’t worry about me.”

 Minho was caught slightly off-guard by the term of affection, but a small part of him was pleased by it. It made him feel like he’d earned something, not that he’d ever admit it. “It’s hard not to,” he said instead.

 Chan’s expression was knowing. “You feel guilty?” he asked softly.

 Minho wasn’t even surprised at this point. Chan had always been able to see right through people, and it was one of the things that Minho admired most about the leader. He nodded slowly, knowing that there was no use in trying to lie to him. “You never should have come back for me,” he told Chan. The words felt heavy on his tongue, but the second they were out in the open, his body felt lighter. He hadn’t dare say those words to anyone else–especially not Jisung. But here, he felt safe.

 Chan tilted his head in thought. “And why not?”

 Minho blinked at Chan, confused. “I wasn’t a member of the Strays,” he said after a moment of silence. It took him a while to come up with the sentence, and he realized that he’d always thought to himself that the Strays should’ve left him there, but he’d never stopped to ask himself why he thought that.

 “No, you weren’t,” Chan agreed. “And you still traded yourself for someone who was. Why is that, Minho?”

 Minho hadn’t been prepared for the question, and he shook his head in frustration, unable to come up with an answer. “I don’t know,” he said. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

 “You had the flashdrive,” Chan pointed out. “Some would say that it was the dumb thing to do. You could’ve compromised the mission, if you’d been caught. The most logical plan would’ve been to leave Changbin. He was a Stray–you knew we’d never abandon him. But you didn’t think we’d come for you, if you stayed behind.”

 Minho couldn’t decide if he admired or hated the way Chan was so casually relaying all of his thoughts to him. Minho forced himself to meet Chan’s eyes, jumbled thoughts beginning to settle into place. “I’m not sure why I did it,” he said slowly. “At first, it was because I knew Jisung would be devastated if anything were to happen to Changbin.”

 “And then?” Chan prompted softly.

 “Changbin had more information on the Strays, sensitive information. If they’d captured him, they probably would’ve tortured him,” Minho said.

 Chan nodded, unsurprised. “How are you, Minho?” he asked again, but the question sounded entirely different this time.

 “I’m... good,” Minho said, and for the first time, he knew the words were true. “I finally got Jeongin to move home, but you might be getting an earful from him about joining in just about nine months.”

 Chan smiled like he was privy to a secret Minho was unaware of, but it wasn’t unkind, so Minho continued. “Hyunjin suddenly wants to be a doctor or some shit, and Changbin and Jisung are constantly at each other’s throats. I don’t know how you ever handled it.”

 Chan chuckled. “That sounds about right.”

 “Seungmin is back at college,” Minho added, because now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop. “He’s complaining about all of the catch up work, but his leg isn’t bothering him, so I think that’s a win. Oh! And Felix–”

 “Minho,” Chan said, cutting him off with another chuckle.

 “Yeah?”

 “I asked how _you_ were doing,” Chan said, smiling fondly.

 “Oh,” Minho replied dumbly.

 “You’ve told me about literally everyone else,” Chan added.

 Minho sat back in the chair. “Like I said, I’m good. It’s nice to look after the others, and seeing them happy makes me feel better.”

 Chan nodded, and Minho understood that he probably knew the feeling better than anyone else.

 The silence lingered, and even though it should’ve been uncomfortable, it wasn’t. Minho felt calm, at peace in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. This week had been a rush of emotions and pent up frustrations, but it had also been the first time in his life that Minho thought that maybe he could stop running. Stop waiting for the next fight that he might not win. He allowed himself to relax.

 Minho glanced up at Chan, only to find that the leader was already watching him, gaze patient. There was something Minho had wanted to ask him ever since he’d made the decision to visit him, but the question made something ugly squirm in his stomach. Still, he steadied himself and forced the words out. “Hyung, when are you coming back?”

 Chan gave him a gentle smile, like he’d known that exact question was coming. He probably did. “I’m not,” Chan replied easily, like he was simply talking about his plans for the day and not something that made it feel like the world might crash down.

 Minho stared at him in disbelief. “W-What?”

 Chan sighed, long and heavy, and Minho was reminded of the number of times he’d looked at Chan and wondered just how exhausted the older man really was. “The plan was always to retire,” he began carefully. “I always thought it would be later on, after I’d had time to fully train my replacement, you know? But this...” Chan trailed off, glancing at his legs.

 For the first time, Minho caught a hint of sadness in the wistful look on Chan’s face, but it was gone in a flash, and the smile was back in place. “Besides,” Chan continued. “There are some things you just can’t teach.”

 Minho nodded. “So what happens now?”

 Chan’s smile widened, amusement dancing in his gaze like he was in on a joke that Minho wasn’t. “Someone has to lead the Strays, don’t you think?”

 Minho frowned, but he nodded once again. “Of course,” he agreed easily. The obvious choice was Woojin, but the man had spent almost all of his time at the hospital with Chan. He supposed Woojin would be able to balance both, but it would be hard because his heart would always lie with Chan. “Woojin is going to make an amazi–”

 “I want you to do it, Minho,” Chan said, with no hesitation in his voice.

 Minho gaped at Chan, shock freezing him. Did he really just hear that? “Hyung, you’re insane. How much pain medicine are you on?” he asked, entirely serious as Chan laughed. “Woojin is the obvious choice.”

 Chan shook his head. “He’s retiring with me,” he said, voice both impossibly soft and fond. “I’ve always wanted to travel, never wanted to do it alone.”

 Minho blinked at Chan. “Okay, then Changbin–”

 “–has never wanted to lead,” Chan ended Minho’s sentence for him, like he’d known that was going to be next argument from Minho. “He’s always worked the best behind the scenes. And Jisung is too emotionally driven, too young.”

 Minho stood up to pace around the room. “Hyung, you know how crazy this sounds, right? I’ve only been a part of the gang for a week.”

 Chan nodded. “I know. But I’ve always thought you’d make a great leader, but ever since you traded places with Changbin, I knew for certain I wanted you to take over for me. That day just came a lot sooner than expected.”

 Minho blinked at him. “That’s why,” he said breathlessly. “That’s why you made me promise to look after the members.”

 Chan’s face turned solemn. “I really thought–” he cut himself off, but Minho filled in the rest of the sentence on his own. _I really thought I was going to die._ Minho shuddered, repressing the image of Chan’s lifeless body. “I knew that if–that if that happened, everything would be a mess. That everyone would look to Woojin and he wouldn’t be able to lead.” There was no bitterness in the words, just a heavy sadness, and they shared a look of relief that the worst case scenario had not happened. “That’s why I made you promise. I’d already told Woojin that I wanted you to take my place, and I knew that if I’d died, the Strays–well, they would be okay.”

 Minho was completely breathless as he stared at Chan, searching his face. There was only honesty in his eyes, and Minho’s heart broke at the trust the older was placing in him.

 “I’d still be here to help, of course,” Chan said. “And Changbin and Jisung would be your right hand men, as they were mine. You wouldn’t be on your own. But we’d have to do it fast, and it could definitely work to our advantage–”

 “Wait, slow down, this is a lot to take in,” Minho said, sitting back down. He rested his head in his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair. “The others–do they know?”

 “Yes,” Chan answered. “I told Jisung to send you to me when he thought you were ready to hear it.”

 Minho locked eyes with Chan. “Are you sure?” he demanded, voice sharp and gaze intense. “Are you certain about me? What if I fuck up?”

 Chan laughed. “You will, it happens. But I believe you’ll be able to fix it, if you do. You’re smart, Minho. Brave, a quick thinker, fast on your feet. You manage to keep calm when the situation calls for it, even when others are panicking, and you care about others more than you care about yourself. I would be honored if you took my place.”

 Minho’s eyes watered involuntarily. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, just that he was feeling a lot of it.

 Chan’s gaze was impossibly soft, full of patience. “Do you accept?”

 Minho wiped his face, trying to pull himself together. “Of course, you absolute shithead,” he said, the insult coming out as an endearment, causing Chan to grin. “But I could never take your place, you know that right?”

 Chan waved him off. “You’re going to do great things, Minho. I know it.”

  
—

 They talked for a while, mostly about how they were going to go public about Minho becoming the new leader. Chan said the timing could work to their advantage. If they let other gangs believe that Minho had taken over the position during Chan’s absence, that it would make them fear Minho more. He’d said it with a wink, like it wasn’t the most daunting thing Minho had heard all day, even after the news that he would become a leader.

 By the time he got back to the house, it was late, and he climbed into bed next to Jisung, who immediately rolled over to prop his chin on Minho’s chest, eyes sparkling in excitement. “Did he ask you?”

 Minho grinned softly at him, brushing the hair out of his eyes before leaning forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “He did.” His grin turned wicked as he flicked Jisung’s forehead lightly, right in the spot he’d just kissed. “ _That’s_ for not warning me, asshole.”

 Jisung pouted, but ended up laughing. “Damn, I wished I’d seen your face. Probably gaped like a fish.”

 “I did not!” Minho hissed.

 Jisung stared at him expectantly, and when Minho didn’t say anything else, he whined. “Don’t leave me waiting!”

 Minho raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s only fair, since you knew he was going to ask me for a whole week before I did.”

 “Hyung,” Jisung groaned, moving to roll away, but Minho only muttered a quick _nope_ and pulled him back, trapping the younger boy in his arms. Jisung laughed. “Who knew you could be so clingy.”

 “You love it,” Minho mumbled into Jisung’s neck.

 Jisung sighed, running his hands through Minho’s hair. “I do,” he admitted. They were quiet for another minute, before Jisung whispered, “You said yes, right?” There was something in his voice that made him sound vulnerable, uncertain.

 Minho let out a long breath over Jisung’s collarbones, causing him to shudder against him. Minho smirked at the reaction, then kissed the skin lightly. “I did.”

 Minho didn’t need to look up to know that Jisung was grinning. The younger boy’s arms locked around him. “Are you nervous?”

 “Terrified,” Minho responded without a second thought.

 “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Jisung told him. “I promise.”

 Minho sighed, letting himself settle into the embrace. Jisung’s arms felt like the promise itself, like coming home after a long day, and Minho liked that thought. He’d never really had a home before, but here he knew he could make it work. “I love you,” he said.

 He could hear Jisung’s heartbeat, quick but steady, and it almost scared him how much he loved him. There wasn’t a single part of him where he didn’t feel warmth, intense and consuming, and sometimes it was so much he didn’t know what to do with it. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 “I love you more,” Jisung whispered, tugging him up to press a kiss to his lips, another promise in itself.

 He knew that a lot had changed–that a lot _will_ change–but it didn’t feel different. The Strays really were _his_ gang now, but even that didn’t feel different. There was still the same fierce protectiveness, his knowledge that now he would do anything for them all. And Jisung. He knew that no matter what was thrown at him, it would all be okay, as long as he had him by his side.

 Tomorrow would begin his life as the leader of the Strays, but tonight, he was just Lee Minho. And he was happy and in love with Han Jisung.

 He couldn’t help but feel like there was a part of his life ending, but the idea that something more was _beginning_ was so much better. And he was ready. He sighed in content, and pulled the smaller boy impossibly closer, until there was no space between them, until they were one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried writing this, knowing that it's the end. I'm really not ready for Verbatim to be over, it's been such a huge part of my life for the past couple of months, but it also makes me feel good. Verbatim will always hold a special place in my heart as my first full, finished work, and I'm pretty proud of the outcome. 
> 
> I know I said there were two chapters left, and there might be an epilogue coming, but I'm not great at ending things, and a part of me wants to leave Minho and Jisung here, with the infinite opportunity resting ahead of them, instead of actually deciding where they'll go. It was already hard to write one ending, I'm not sure if I'd be able to write another. 
> 
> I'm also sorry if this ending feels rushed or from out of nowhere, but my plan from the beginning was to always have Minho become the leader, so his character development really comes full circle. There's probably more I could've done for the ending, maybe a couple of loose threads I haven't tied up, but there's something that felt right about finishing it with them just laying there and going to sleep (probably because I finished, like, half of my chapters that way, whoops). 
> 
> It's been really great writing this, and thank you so much for all of your continued support. I really hope you enjoyed Verbatim. 
> 
> Stay tuned for my next project! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @simbawritesv


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